


suck dick get hitched

by cryptic_potato



Series: skate fast eat ass universe [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Deadpool - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety Attacks, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Future Fic, Gay Bucky Barnes, Getting Back Together, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Bucky Barnes, Past Abuse, Pining, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Trans Peter Parker, Weddings, don’t let the sam/clint or wanda/nat scare you off, ironstrange wedding!!, this seems like a crackfic if u haven’t read the rest of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-08-20 23:45:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20236354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryptic_potato/pseuds/cryptic_potato
Summary: Bucky’s so blinded by his trust issues that he’s afraid that his next relationship will end up like his last, even though he knows that Steve isn’t like Rumlow. Maybe it’s because he still wants to know what Steve’s like in the sack before making any commitments!”“Shut up!” Steve screams.“So,” Tony continues, “If we could all end this rendezvous where it stands, right here, right now, then do it. Just strip your fucking clothes off, go to Bucky’s hotel room, andRAW EACH OTHER ALREADY!”This time, no one says anything.or: Tony Stark and Stephen Strange hold their wedding in Santa Barbara. All of the Avengers accompany them to California for the big day, and unfortunately enough, Steve and Bucky are still battling with their attraction and their past mistakes. Cue madness.Includes Steve being oblivious, Bucky being desperate, Howard being a jackass, Tony wanting a nap, and Natasha being done with everyone’s bullshit. Hopefully these kids will finally get the happy ending they deserve.





	suck dick get hitched

**Author's Note:**

> hello bitches i’m back:)
> 
> allow me to start by saying, to the readers of the skate fast eat ass universe, i can’t express how grateful and proud i am to be completing the series. it holds a special place in my heart, and writing skate fast eat ass as well as smoke grass sled fast has brought out the best in me. this huge, ridiculous project that i took up has helped me mature in so many ways. thank you for being there along with me on this ride. 
> 
> this final installment is special to me, as well. it’s the first prose piece that i’m sharing with the world, and i poured out my guts trying to get everything right. i wanted this to be something that would wrap up the entire series in a satisfying, rewarding way. i tried my best. 
> 
> if you’re new here, welcome! this is part 3 to the skate fast eat ass universe. i advise you read the two prequels to this before reading. it’ll make things a lot more clear.
> 
> thank you for everything. i hope you all enjoy.

“Tony, calm the fuck down—“

“—Don’t fucking tell me what to do!”

“YOU TRIPPED OVER MY PACKAGED BEEF STEW, YOU BITCH!”

“LA PUBERTAD NO HA SIDO AMABLE CON DORA LA EXPLORADORA! _EAT MY ASS, BARTON!”_

“What the— what did he just say?” Bruce says, eating a bag of popcorn on the couch in confusion. Thor sits on his other side scrolling on his phone. “P-Puberty? Puberty has not been... Clint, do you speak spanish?”

Clint watches as one Tony Stark runs down the hall in nothing but a pair of boxers and a nasa shirt with a dvd of Incredibles 2 duct taped to his face. Only God may guess how the hell that happened.

“Bruce, I can barely even speak english, let alone whatever the hell this train wreck is sayi—“

“Cut the guy some slack,” Rhodey says as he exits his room. “He’s getting married in three days.“

“RHODEY, I’M ALMOST LATE FOR MY FLIGHT!” Tony exclaims, throwing a suitcase and 4 duffel bags in the man’s direction. “Drive me to the airport, I’ll owe you!”

“I thought your dad sent a guy to pick you up?”

“Happy got a flat tire in the middle of 95,” he huffs, and Clint immediately pulls out his phone to tell the group chat about today’s antics. That’s just group chat chivalry, at this point. “Please. I can’t be late, I still have to meet the wedding planner in Santa Barbara tonight, go to the venue, meet up with Howard so we can—“

“Tones, just get in the damn car, I’ll be outside in a minute,” Rhodey sighs. He shoves the disgruntled groom-to-be towards the door to the stairs, bags in hand.

“Okay, I just—I’ll see you guys at the wedding! Remember to text me any questions about the address or whatever, or not, because I’ll probably have a panic attack just having more stuff to worry about, and remember the dress code is red gold and black, this is a classy event goddammit, and if any of you all are late or miss a flight then I’m gonna curb stomp your asses—”

Rhodey closes the door in his face. Thor looks up from his phone as soon as it’s silent. “This wedding is gonna give me an aneurism,” he says.

“Yeah, I know.” Rhodey looks around at the mess of a dorm hall, cringing at all the damage left by Tony’s stress rampage. “Jesus.”

“You guys packed for the flight tomorrow?”

Clint plops himself on the couch next to Bruce. “Me n’ the Jojo Siwa Cult are getting a flight tonight. Well, and Wade, we still have to call the airline and see if any seats are freed up. I’m still not packed.”

“Hotel room booked?”

“Marriott, bitches.”

“Is it the one 15 minutes from the venue?” Bruce asks.

“Uh... yeah, I think.”

“That’s the one all the Odinsons are staying at. Including me.”

“Bruce,” Rhodey says, “At this point, when someone says ‘the Odinsons,’ you’re immediately associated with them.”

“You know, all that could be avoided if you and Thor got married and you took his last name. Bruce Odinson.”

“But, consider this; I don’t want to marry Thor,” Bruce says calmly, and Clint glances at the blonde Norwegian just to see a reaction. There is none. “No offense, babe.”

“None taken, love,” Thor says, kissing Bruce on the forehead.

“I’m confused.” Rhodey jingles his keys. “But I don’t have the time nor energy to care. Tony’s probably about to combust in my car. See you guys later.”

“Bye, Rhodes,” the three men say in unison. He leaves swiftly, and when he does, Clint immediately looks at the couple in front of him. “What do you mean you don’t want to get married?”

Bruce shrugs. “We both don’t believe in god. We both don’t believe in the government. Honestly, we don’t even want kids. Marriage just seems...”

“Gratuitous?” Thor finishes.

“Yes, babe. Gratuitous.”

“So...” Clint starts. “You don’t ever want to get married? Call each other husbands? Get the tax benefits?”

“Do you want to marry Sam?” Bruce says pointedly.

“I... good point, I guess.”

“Why not?” Thor says, interest peaked.

“I’m, uh. I guess I’m not ready for all that. I don’t think I’m responsible enough. I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

“It’s okay not to be ready,” Bruce assures sweetly. “Tony and Stephen are definitely more ready than anyone else. They couldn’t even wait until we graduated. I guess that’s just how they work.”

“I can’t believe they’ve been dating for, like, four years,” Clint says.

“Bruce and I have been dating for six!” Thor beams. “I suppose it’s up to preferences and whatnot.”

“Think about it—there are some people who date for six months and get engaged, then stay married for, like, sixty years. There are some people who date for eighteen years and get engaged, and stay married for two. I guess,” Bruce smiles, “It just depends on if they’re happy or not. Of course, Thor and I are happy, but... I guess I’m just saying that love doesn’t have a time limit.”

“Straight heat,” Clint mutters.

“You think Steve and Bucky are gonna sneak off into the same hotel room?” Thor suggests, winking.

Clint laughs. “A guy can hope. Once they get over this pining bullshit—“

“It’s been three years,” reminds Bruce. “I’m sure ‘pining’ is behind them now. After the trial... nothing has even been teased with them. No kisses, no flirting, nothing. Zip. Zero.”

“They flirt plenty,” Thor argues.

“I don’t see flirting. I just see sexual tension,” Clint says, grinning.

“Maybe you just see what you want to see, Clint. Maybe Steve figured Bucky just needed some space after the whole ordeal and never got around to acting on it.”

“Or they’re pining,” says Thor.

“Are we still going on about this?”

“Like I said, love has no time limit. If they wanted to get back together, they would have already.”

“But maybe when you say ‘no time limit,’ it could also mean that if they wanted to get back together, they could take as much time as they could.”

“It’s been three years and they see each other every day. I don’t see it happening, not to say I’m against it,” Bruce defends. “Trust me—if they got together, I’d shit my pants in joy.”

Yeah. Same.

—

“Guys. I swear to god. Why did we have to be friends with a billionaire’s son?” Bucky asks, looking frustratedly at his phone as their flight takes off. The entire plane shakes as it speeds up, eventually gaining enough wind to get in the air. “This shit is bigger than the royal wedding. It’s trending on twitter! The assholes from high school won’t stop commenting that they were friends with Stephen and Tony when they got together! Bitch, please—“

“SHHHH!” a random white lady from the seat in front of Bucky hisses. He kicks her seat.

“Bucky,” Peter whispers from the window seat to the left of him. Natasha sits on Bucky’s right, quietly reading a book even in the dark lighting. “When you say ‘billionaire’s son,’ you make it sound like you aren’t the son of one of the richest men in the state. Your mom, too, she literally designed a dress that Taylor Swift wore at the Met Gala.”

“Yeah, but the difference between Tony and I is that I don’t make it known that I’m rich. He’s literally one of the smartest, most brilliant inventors in the world and he’s only—what, twenty two? Jesus Christ!”

“You have twenty one thousand followers on Instagram,” Peter says.

“Tony has five hundred thousand on twitter,” Bucky mopes.

_mercwithamouth: did yall know clint drools like a lot_

_mercwithamouth: sam is covered in this man’s drool_

“Poor Wade. Third wheel the entire flight.” Bucky shuffles around in his seat, struggling to find a comfortable position. “It’s good that he managed to finesse an empty seat on this flight. It woulda sucked if he had to fly alone.”

“Is the plane that the Odinsons and everyone else are taking tomorrow completely booked out?”

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “I’m so hungry.”

“You ate a sandwich two minutes ago.”

“It wasn’t enough,” he says. “I need more. Nat. Tasha. Natalia, do you have more food?”

Natasha glares back at him.

“Okay. Never mind then.”

“But yeah, I agree. This wedding—I’d be surprised if we weren’t swarmed by paparazzi as soon as we got there,” Peter admits, digging in his backpack. Bucky smiles to himself as he sees the shine of thin hair on Peter’s chin, as well as his upper lip and arms. His voice had become deeper over the years. Looking back to old pictures from high school, Peter was so... pubescent. Babyish.

Bucky supposes that almost three years on testosterone and a top surgery will do that to a guy.

“Hey, I never asked. What’s it like? To... to not have to wear a binder anymore?”

Peter grins. “God, it’s fucking amazing. Just—being able to wear a shirt, and just feeling plain shirt. Being able to run and not feeling like i’m being squeezed to death. Showering? Jesus. Showering is amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I can’t...I can’t even explain it.”

“And everything’s healed? Scabbing’s gone?”

“Yep.” Peter smiles, that happy smile, and it’s enough to make Bucky’s heart melt. “Thanks, Uncle Bucky.”

“For what?”

“For being so great. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and...” He pauses, lip quivering. “I don’t know... I don’t know where I would even be if you didn’t copy my science notes on my first day of school. I don’t know if I’d even have Wade, or if I’d even be alive. You,” he pauses, eyes wet, “gave me hope. A family. You gave me a reason to be happy, and excited about life.”

“Kid...” Bucky starts softly.

“And I know that one day you’re gonna settle down, get married, have a bunch of kids running around, and a house with a pool table, just like you want. You deserve it.”

“Petey, you—“

Bucky’s phone starts ringing, and he gives an apologetic look to Peter as he looks at the caller ID.

Steve Rogers.

“You better take that,” the nineteen year old says, smirking.

Bucky rolls his eyes with a grin as he picks up. “Yeah, Steve?”

“Hey. You on the plane?”

“Just took off. We haven’t crashed yet, so I guess we’re good,” Bucky says. “Why? You needed something?”

“No, I just...” Steve’s voice stumbles, “I wanted to make sure you were safe getting there. It’s late.”

“Aww, you’re worried about me!” he teases, and Natasha raises an eyebrow as she overhears Bucky’s side of the call. Peter nudges him in the elbow while holding back a laugh. “You packed?”

“Yeah. Tony and Stephen just landed in California a few minutes ago.”

“God rest Stephen’s soul—Tony has been jittery all fucking week. You see it’s trending on Twitter?”

“Yeah, Sam showed me.”

“Peter and I were talking about the chance of paparazzi being at the wedding.”

“It’s not even a stretch, honestly!” Steve laughs. “Tony really milked as much money as he could for it; I heard it was over ten thousand dollars on the ceremony alone. Stephen is really the one doing all the organization, though, if he didn’t then Tony would’ve probably booked a bunch of strippers for the dinner service.”

Bucky snorts, and Natasha goes back to her book.

“Howard is in on the whole thing?”

“Yeah. Bastard’s actually doing something good in his son’s life. He’s showing up to a gay wedding. Hooray.”

“Steve, I’m hungry.”

“I put a chocolate bar in your jacket pocket before you left.”

“Wait, what?

“Bucky. Check your pocket.”

“No way.” Bucky scrambles to stuff his hand into his pocket, pulling out a king sized Hershey’s bar. Complete with a yellow sticky note and a hand written sentence.

I knew you were gonna get hungry as soon as you boarded, so I thought ahead of time. Thank me later.  
-Steve :-)

“Steve, I could kiss you. I could seriously kiss you. Will you marry me? Please? I think I’m in love.”

Steve is hysterical on the other side of the line. “Oh my god.”

”Tax benefits. Think about it.”

”You know that I’m too broke to buy you a ring.”

”Use a ring pop. Or I’ll propose.”

Bucky’s already shoving his face with chocolate. Peter gapes at his chocolate covered mouth, scooting away. “Shteve, youwre an angewl.”

“Should I hang up and leave you to enjoy your chocolate bar in peace?”

“If youw wanh,” Bucky says. “Wait! Waiht, do you knowh if Pepper an’ Peggy’re gonna be thewre tommrow?”

“Bucky, chew your food,” Steve reminds.

“Okay, I did. Are Peps and Pegs flying out the same time you all are?”

“If all goes according to plan, we’ll see them at the airport tomorrow morning.”

“I miss their presence. I can’t wait to see the look on Peggy’s face when she realizes we’re still single.”

“She’d probably slap us both. She keeps egging us on to find dates.”

“You know,” Peter whispers so that only Bucky can hear, “You could avoid that by simply getting back together with St—mmph!”

“I’ll take my hand off of your face if you be quiet,” Bucky hisses, going back to the phone. “Yeah. I’m—I’m really happy for Stephen and Tony, you know. Getting married in Santa fucking Barbara? In a wine vineyard? I saw pictures of the bedroom suite in the mansion, Steve, that bed is fucking extravagant. I don’t even want to think about what they’ll be doing on that bed.”

Peter tears Bucky’s hand off his mouth, plugging in his earbuds and scrolling on his phone. The older man shrugs.

“Trust me. Ever since Stephen put out, they’ve been breeding like rabbits. I can’t count how many times I’ve walked in on Tony on his knees—“

Bucky shoves his face into his arm, hysterical. The same woman from before hisses at him to shut up, and he ignores her.

“I’m serious!” says Steve. “I’m traumatized. The sounds, man, the fucking sounds—“

“Maybe you should learn how to knock, Rogers.”

“Maybe I should.” For a moment, Steve pauses, seemingly thinking of what words to use. Bucky swallows. “Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Have you...” a pause, “You’ve seriously never thought of settling down? Monogamy, dates, moving in together, all that stuff?”

Bucky’s heart drops to his stomach. Not—It’s not the fact that Steve is the one asking about it, god no. It’s because he sounds so damn heartbroken when he asks.

It’s not that Bucky doesn’t care for monogamy. He does, he really does, and he tried going on dates with guys for a while before quitting the whole charade. Nowadays he sleeps around; one night stands are a pastime. But why did he quit in the first place, you ask?

Because after a while, he realized the only guy he would ever want to be monogamous for was the one guy who wasn’t interested. Not anymore.

So, what should Bucky say?

Just laugh it off, he thinks. That’s what everyone expects anyways.

“Nah,” he laughs, a sting in his chest, “I mean, sounds great and all, but how can I settle down when there are so many guys desperate to get a taste of this?”

“Ha,” Steve says, but it sounds fake.

—

The group arrives in California at four in the morning. They take an uber to the Marriott hotel, half asleep and jet lagged, with Sam struggling to carry Clint’s sleeping body bridal-style while also juggling two luggages. When they check in, Peter and Wade share a room, Clint and Sam share a room, and Bucky and Nat share a room.

“There is absolutely no reason for you to pack three boxes of condoms,” Natasha says, unpacking her bags. “We’ll only be here for four days. Do you really expect to find that many hookups?”

“Look, Tasha, I have a lot of resources. I also have a lot of tinder swipes. One of them will want a taste of this sweet ass, I’m sure of it.”

“Slut,” she says, jokingly yet dry.

“Prude,” he says, flopping onto the bed.

Natasha abandons her opened suitcase, sensing a feeling of stress on her best friend of five years. She sits on the edge of his bed, taking in the pitiful sight before her. His shoulder length hair a mess, his head shoved under a pillow, his sleeve chocolate stained.

“You wanna talk about it?” she asks, probably too motherly for his taste.

His voice is muffled under the pillow. “No.”

She pulls it off of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m just tired, Natty,” he says exasperatedly.

“What was that phone call with Steve earlier about?”

“What... what do you mean? We just talked.”

“And he asked you about if you wanted to settle down, right?”

“And?”

“Why do you think he asked that, Buck?” she says. “You think he was just curious? Trying to mock you?”

“Both of those things, actually,” he grumbles.

“You,” Natasha kicks her shoes off, climbing on top of the bed and sitting on his back, “are extremely dense.”

“Nat. He... Steve doesn’t want anything to do with me. We’re friends. It’s been that way for years. Why would it start now? Why is he taking so long?”

She feels the urge to slam her head into a table, suddenly.

“I just don’t want to start any trouble,” Bucky sighs. “Tony and Stephen—this is their moment. It’s their day. I don’t want to, like, focus on myself.”

“Talk to him later,” Natasha says. “when they land. They’re staying at the same hotel as us, you’ll be able to talk to him.”

“Hey, when Wanda comes, didn’t you wanna share a room with her?”

An obvious attempt to change the subject. Natasha groans.

“I’m just saying,” Bucky says, “you haven’t seen her that often ever since the RAs got stricter about who sneaks into whose dorms, and what better excuse to sleep with her than at a fuckin’ five star hotel?”

“Who will you room with, then?” she asks.

“I dunno. I’d probably just buy another room, and she can stay in here. Doesn’t matter.”

Natasha thinks about it, an idea already popping into her head.

Perfect.

“Okay,” she says, kissing Bucky on the cheek. “thank you.”

“I love seeing my friends flourish.”

“What about you?”

“I dunno. I’ll probably just find a hot guy to fuck.”

Oh, they’ll fuck, alright. And Natasha knows just the person.

—

“Steve!” Peggy yells, running towards the group of college students with her luggage trailing behind her. Pepper Potts, with her strawberry blonde hair, sips coffee and waves as she trails behind—she looks way too good for someone who was on a plane for several hours. “Steve!”

Steve turns around just in time to see the short brunette woman catapult herself into his arms, and he spins her around, laughing. “Peggy!”

“I’ve missed you,” she tells him, as he stops twirling, holding her up by the waist. Her ruby red lipstick forms the biggest smile he’s seen in a long time, and his heart melts for her. “How’s school?”

“It’s good.”

“Rhodey,” Pepper says, putting down her bags and hugging the man.

Thor and Loki are next to hug the girls, then Bruce, and T’Challa, and then the rest of the group—Scott, Wanda, Shuri, Hela (although reluctantly), Pietro, Carol, and Valkyrie.

Carol had only recently joined their group—being Val’s girlfriend and all, she was around a lot, and everyone became friends with her early on. Her witty attitude and her responsible demeanor made her get on well with Tony and Steve, especially.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Scott whines, and Peggy wraps her arms around him immediately, laughing.

“How was the flight?” Steve asks. Pepper shrugs, sipping her coffee; probably black.

“It was fine. Tony was on the phone with me the entire time, screeching about sunflowers or daffodils—“

“Was Stephen there?” Loki asks, putting their long black hair into a bun.

“Yeah. He took the phone from Tony after a while and made him take a nap. He said that they and the Stark assistants were busy opening boxes of the decorations for the vineyard, and he made the mistake of putting Tony in charge of the flowers. The flowers had been preordered for months, but something happened to the floral company’s yellow roses, so now they have to improvise. Tony was having a mental breakdown about which yellow flowers to get instead—“

“Is the company giving it to them for free?”

“Charging for the red roses, since they ordered enough to fill the grand canyon, but yellow flowers are free of charge for the inconvenience.”

“That’s... good?”

“I hope Tony feels better before the big day comes,” Wanda says sadly. “I’d hate for him to be too stressed to enjoy it.”

The group of fifteen young adults split into groups and uber to the Marriott, the sun already beginning to go down—the plane ride was at least six hours long, an additional two hours due to delays. Hela had almost thrown hands with the flight attendant when she informed them that they’d have to wait even longer.

When they get to the hotel, everyone splits into groups of two or three to room in. Natasha calls Wanda while they’re in the lobby and asks if she wants to stay with her. Wanda, as adorably flustered as ever, agrees immediately and waves goodbye to everyone as she rushes up the stairs to Natasha’s room.

“Alright, I guess that’s an even number,” Steve says. “Loki with Scott and Pietro, Thor with Bruce, Rhodes and Pepper with Peggy, T’Challa with Shuri, Carol with Val, and...” he pauses. “Oh, yeah. Me.”

“Where’s Bucky?” Peggy asks. “Why not room with him?”

Immediately, T’Challa snickers, and Steve tenses up.

“What?” Peggy says, confused. “Why not?”

“Can I just stay with one of you guys?” Steve whines helplessly, and everyone else shrugs and whistles a tune.

“Dunno, man, room’s already cramped...” Pietro says, obviously hiding something, but Steve doesn’t say anything.

“Girls only,” Pepper says. She looks down at her phone.

“Rhodey’s not a girl, though?”

Pepper, Peggy and Rhodey are silent. Steve lets it go.

“I’d say yes, but I’m afraid you’d be uncomfortable,” Thor winks, arm around Bruce, and Hela pretends to throw up.

“Hela, what about y—“

“No. I’m getting my own.”

“Oh my god, guys,” Steve says, rubbing his face. “You know they’re out of rooms that aren’t, like, two hundred dollars a night. I’m too broke for this.”

“Bucky’s got a room alone,” Shuri says suggestively.

Steve huffs.

As each group collects their key cards at the desk, Steve considers his options. If he really stays with Bucky, his ex boyfriend, he’d probably fuck it up somehow. What if he accidentally gets a boner or something? Or he accidentally reveals his feelings by rambling like a dumbass? What if he says something stupid and Bucky never talks to him again?

Yeah, he’d rather sleep on the streets than humiliate himself by rooming with Bucky.

He opens his phone, grumbling to himself.

“Are you calling Bucky?” T’Challa asks, and Steve shakes his head. “Who are you calling then?”

He dials, bringing the phone to his ears. It answers after a few rings.

“Hey, Sam. I’m really sorry to ask you this, but are you and Clint sharing a room?”

—

“Dude. I already told you, it’s fine. Me and Clint are literally too jet-lagged to do anything but sit around and watch a movie.”

“I know, but—“

“Steve. Trust me. If I didn’t want you to stay in our room, I’d say so,” Sam says, putting a hand on Steve’s broad shoulder, going for comfort.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Steve asks, frowning.

Clint is passed out, sprawled on top of one of the two queen beds. The couple’s suitcases and bags are thrown on the ground by the window, and the TV lights up the dark room as Back To The Future plays. Sam sets Steve’s stuff down on the other bed, unbothered. “I’m pretty fucking positive. Trust me, me and Clint weren’t planning on having crazy sex tonight, so you’re fine—“

“Babe? Who the hell’re you talkin’ to?” Clint groans, still half asleep. He lifts his head off the pillow and squints to see who else is in the room, hair sticking up in all directions and a hickey exposed by his undone collar. Steve looks away.

“Babe, go back to sleep. Steve has no other room to crash in so he’s staying in here.”

“Wait...” Clint says, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I thought—I thought you said before that you didn’t want to have a threesome with Steve? You said that you’re afraid to see how big his—”

“Clint,” Sam shoves Clint’s shoulders down back onto the pillow. Steve stands there awkwardly, already feeling his face warm up into a blush. “Go back to sleep. It’s late.”

“Are you gon’ bone Steve while I’m asl—“

“No one is boning Steve. At least, no one in this room. Bucky’s still up for grabs.”

“Okayyyyyyyyyy.”

Clint starts snoring after a few seconds, and Steve looks at Sam, eyebrow raised.

“I have no idea what he’s talking about,” Sam says innocently.

—

“Natasha, you’re a demon,” Wanda laughs, snuggling with her girlfriend under the covers of their bed.

“All they need is a shove in the right direction,” the redhead replies, kissing Wanda’s neck as the girl laughs. “Bucky was gonna find a hookup in town. I figured he could hook up with the one guy who wants to do it with him more than anything.”

And, well, as much as Wanda doesn’t care to say it, it’s true—Steve has been wanting to get back with Bucky for years! He’s just never had the balls to do anything about it, and what better way to get them together again than on vacation in California for a wedding?

And... yeah. Maybe she’s just being hopeful.

“Still, texting everyone and forcing them to purposely not let Steve stay with them?”

“It’s not like he’d be offended. Ninety percent of this group is full of couples.”

“I think he’s staying with Clint and Sam tonight?”

“...Shit, really?”

“You didn’t let them into the plan?” Wanda laughs, as Natasha leaves kisses down her neck and onto her collarbones, eventually trailing down to her chest. “Whatever. There’s always tomorrow... oh. Oh, shit—”

“You think they’ll end up hooking up by the time the wedding comes?”

“If you decide to make matchmaker, then yes.”

“Oh, I’m planning on it.”

“You—oh. Oh, shit, fuck.”

“Shh. Pietro, Loki, and Scott are right next door.”

“What a great thought,” Wanda mutters sarcastically. “My own brother hearing me having—oh, god. Oh, god—”

—

“Oh, god!” Scott moans, making more mocking sexual noises as Loki dies of laughter, throwing a pillow at him. His sounds are high pitched and annoyingly loud—so loud, in fact, that Pietro wouldn’t be surprised if the entire floor could hear them—not that Scott cares, of course. “Oh, oh, harder!”

Pietro, already regretting all of his life choices, covers his face with his hands. “Scott, I swear to god, you asshole—“

“It’s just a joke, hot stuff,” Loki says.

“Still, I—They’re the next door down. What if they hear you moaning and think we’re having a threesome or something—“

“You say that as if they’re probably not fucking right now!” Scott falls back on the bed, muffling his mouth with one hand and gripping the sheets with the other as he pretends to breath hotly, and, once again, moans. Even. Fucking. Louder. “Oh, Wanda! Oh, Nat~!”

“You don’t know that!” Pietro growls, climbing on top of Scott and pinning his wrists down to the bed.

“Now that, my friends, is kinky,” Loki says, already taking pictures of the display.

“You two are being assholes,” Pietro hisses, and Scott blushes from underneath him—obviously, he didn’t expect for the man on top to put them in such a compromising position, but hey, at least he shuts up. “That’s my sister and my sister-in-law you’re talking about, you know.”

“What else would they be doing?” Loki grins. “Come on, Pietro, it’s just a joke.” When the blonde grunts, still on top of Scott, Loki’s tone changes to something more sincere—not sympathetic, that would be outlandish for his standards, but less condescending. “Look, dude, it’s—we’re sorry. Jokes. Real bitchy thing for us to do.”

“I wanna hear it from Scott,” Pietro says, and his grip on the boy’s wrists becomes tighter. Scott groans loudly.

“Okay, okay, man. I’m sorry. It was... immature. And rude. I know Wanda and Nat aren’t fucking, and if they are, it’s totally okay, and I’m a douche. It was invasive and unnecessary, so would you pleasestopsqueezingmywrists it hurts, oh, god—“

“Scott, it sounds like you’re the one moaning, now,” Loki teases.

“I think he gets off on it,” says Pietro, and he gets a death grip on Scott’s wrists. His knuckles turn white from how hard they’re squeezing. The boy on the bottom groans, trying to kick Pietro off but failing miserably.

“Dude, get off,” he whines. “This is oddly pornographic and I don’t like that I’m getting aroused. I already said I’m sorry, come onnnnn...”

“S’what you get,” the blonde says.

“Yeah, yeah.” Scott yelps in joy as Pietro lets go of his wrists; relishing in the fact that he can feel his hands again as Pietro climbs off, sitting on the bed.

“You would have absolutely laughed your ass off about it a few years ago,” points Loki, shrugging. “You move too fast for us, Pietro.”

“It’s called maturity, you should read about it.”

“Tragic.”

“Don’t worry, dude,” Scott says gently. “Wanda’s okay.”

“I know that. She just, uh,” he sighs, eyes tired as he runs a hand through his hair. “She keeps growing up so fast.”

“You’re the same age,” Loki mumbles.

“Yeah, I know that! I’m just...” he pauses, looking for the right words. “I’m protective of her. She’s like my younger sister, even though we’re twins, and it feels like—we’re—she’s just growing apart from me so fast,” Pietro says, melancholic. “I don’t know what to do. Like, back when we were seniors I would always bring back girls and sometimes boys to the house to hook up with, and she’d always be grossed out but she never got mad. But then, I found out she lost her virginity, and I was sad and kind of upset but I didn’t say anything. Like, maybe I’m just annoying about it, but Wanda’s the only family I have, and I don’t want to lose her. I don’t want her to grow away.”

Scott shrugs, his attitude unbothered, as if he doesn’t understand the problem. “We’re not kids anymore. We’re adults—we get drunk, party, have sex, get jobs, figure shit out. Wanda’s safe with Natasha, you know that.”

“I’m gonna choke you,” Pietro mutters.

“As if he wouldn’t get turned on by it.”

“Do it, Pietro,” Scott dares, winking, “Try choking me.”

“Well, I don’t know if I want to, now.”

“Do it. I swear to god.”

“Dude, just choke him.”

“I’m not... I’m not gonna choke you, what the fuck...”

Loki’s phone lets out an alert. As they look at the screen, they begin laughing uncontrollably, dropping on the bed and collapsing into a fit of cackles.

“Wanda,” Loki manages to wheeze, still laughing, “texted me this. Oh my god.”

wandawoman: What. The. Fuck are you three doing

wandawoman: Was Scott /moaning?/

wandawoman: If my brother is topping Scott Lang right now I’ll cry Loki answer me rn

“The funniest part about that is that she assumes that Scott would be the one taking it up the ass, and she is absolutely right.”

Pietro hides his face in his hands. “Oh. My. God.”

Scott doesn’t even seem embarrassed. He grins, shoving chips into his mouth.

Loki laughs for the rest of the night, and no one gets much sleep.

—

It’s the next morning after, and Bucky wakes up to a random stranger in his bed.

The sunlight shines through the hotel room window, the silk curtains not doing much to keep out any light. Bucky groans when he feels how sore he is, and holy shit, the trail of hickeys and bites on his neck and thighs are going to leave a mark for at least a few months.

Then he remembers the previous night, and compunction washes over him like a wave.

He remembers being kissed gently, being carefully touched, always asked for consent before they moved on, and Bucky fucking seethed it the entire time. He wanted to be shoved around. He wanted to be hurt, to be forced to forget, and besides; the only person he’d ever want to be gentle with isn’t the one next to him right now.

The guy—big, brawny, with beach blonde hair and green eyes, shifts from under the covers.

Bucky closes his eyes again, hoping the guy will think he’s asleep and leave without any preamble. Of fucking course, he just can’t seem to win recently.

“I know you’re awake,” blondie says. “Your mouth hangs open when you’re sleeping.”

Bucky opens his eyes—no point in hiding it. “You caught me.”

Blondie smiles, and although Bucky admits he’s one of the prettiest boys he’s ever seen, he still just wants him to get out of his room.

“Hey, so, thanks for last night,” says Blondie, stroking a chunk of hair out of the brunette’s face.

Bucky melts into the touch despite himself. He just wants someone to hold him. “S’ no problem.”

“You think I could get your number?” the man asks.

Engage panic mode. Get the guy out. Get him out, get him out, get him away—

“Uh... sorry. I don’t give it out... my number. I don’t give it to people.”

“Oh,” blondie says, looking disappointed. “Well... could I meet you again? Some other time?”

Bucky cringes.

“Sorry. I... I’m not interested in anything long term, so...”

“Oh. Uh, well,” he says, awkwardly, standing up and locating his clothes before pulling his pants on. “Sorry. Bye, I guess.”

“Bye,” Bucky says, going back under the covers. He probably looks like such a douchebag, but he’s too drained to care.

As soon as the shuffling around the room stops and he hears the door open and close, Bucky springs up, running to the bathroom, suddenly feeling very sick.

He hurls his guts out in the toilet.

—

“I feel drama in the air,” Peter mutters, watching as Wade scarfs a plate of scrambled eggs down his throat like he hasn’t eaten in three days. Both of them had woken up early to go downstairs and take advantage of the complimentary breakfast bar, seeing as Wade was starving and Peter had nothing better to do.

“Hm?”

“Drama,” Peter repeats. “Something seems, like, off. You think Bruce and Thor had another fist fight about romantic comedies again?”

Wade shrugs, stealing a bite of Peter’s waffles. “I didn’t hear any screaming last night, so...”

“Oh, I heard some screaming, alright,” the younger man grins.

Wade wheezes, punching the table a bit and sinking in his chair. “Petey, my witty little man.”

“I just never, uh,” Peter says, “realized that Pietro and Scott were...”

“Loki was in the room, too, you know.”

“I also didn’t realize that Scott was that loud in bed,” he grins.

Just as the couple breaks into fits of laughter, a random blonde guy speeds down the stairs next to the cafe area, grumbling to himself as he stumbles out the door. “Looks like someone had a rough night,” Wade whispers before taking a sip of orange juice.

“Who had a rough night?” A familiar voice asks, approaching the table.

Wade almost spits out his drink all over his boyfriend when he sees who it is, and Peter doesn’t do much better in terms of hiding his amusement.

“What?” Pietro asks, looking disheveled with a major bed head and a wrinkled, food stained t-shirt. When Scott and Loki follow behind, Wade’s laughter only grows. “Dude, what’s so funny?”

“Well, you certainly had a good night, didn’t you?” Peter grins, hiding his smile with his glass of water.

“I... wait, what the fuck?”

“Guys. There was so much moaning and groaning coming from your room, not that we disapprove or anything, fuck who you wanna fuck. Peter and I walked by your door and all we heard was Pietro saying something about choking Scott—“

“It’s not what it—Jesus, that’s not what happened. At all.”

“Oh?” Peter raises an eyebrow, smugly. “So that picture that Loki sent for streaks wasn’t of you pinning down a very flustered Scott onto the bed? By his wrists?”

“You—Loki, you sent that as streaks?!” Scott exclaims.

“Look, if you didn’t want that to be spread around, then don’t have loud rough sex right in front of me—“

“WE DIDN’T HAVE SEX,” Pietro whines, his head in his hands, and Scott stands there more flustered than Peter has even seen him.

Wade pulls up the image on his phone, holding it up for all the men to see. “Then why the hell were you pinning Scott down? Then, in this other picture, why did you sit down on him, effectively straddling him?”

“He was wearing pants,” Pietro argues.

“You were wearing nothing but a pair of briefs,” Peter retorts.

“I was about to shower, dingus—“

“Pietro!” T’Challa calls, emerging from the stairs with Shuri in tow. She stares down at her phone, typing something furiously, as her brother gently pushes her out of the way from walking straight into a pillar. “How was the pull out last night?”

“What? The—The couch?”

“No,” the prince of Wakanda says. “I mean anal with Scott.”

Scott chokes, falling to the floor. Multiple people in the cafe glare at the group of college students as they converse loudly about anal sex. “Loki, what the hell did you do?”

“I may or may not have posted on my private story that you two were having loud anal sex while you thought I was asleep in the other bed—“

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”

Passersby whisper, and Pietro immediately scoffs, plopping himself down into a chair next to Peter and Wade. “Scott, what the hell are we gonna do?” he asks, banging his head on a table.

“Cheer up, guys,” T’Challa grins, his African accent thick, “Love is in the air! Tony and Stephen are getting married tomorrow! Aren’t you excited?”

“What’s this I hear about Scott and Pietro doing the 69 last night while Loki recorded?” Valkyrie says, walking towards them while holding a plate of scrambled eggs and waffles.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of this, will I?”

“Nope. Neither of you will.”

Peter snickers. Scott lays face first on the floor.

—

Everyone spends most of the day either relaxing by the hotel pool, doing some shopping at the nearby mall, or helping out Stephen and Tony at the wine vineyard as they rush around to get everything organized.

As Bucky stumbles out of his room at noon, sore and battling a massive migraine, he almost walks head first into the one person he wishes he’d never have to talk to again.

“Buck, hey, I—“ Steve says, pausing when he sees how pale the shorter man is. He pushes the hair up from Bucky’s face and holds his hand to his forehead, checking his temperature. “What’s wrong? You look sick, jeez...”

“Nothin,” he mutters, swatting Steve’s hand away.

“Buck. Hey, hey, wait.” Bucky begins walking away, his fists clenched and his head throbbing. He just wants to find Nat. He wants for her to talk some sense into him, call him an idiot, something. Anything to make him feel less gross.

Steve grabs his wrist, keeping him from walking away. When Bucky visibly winces, the blonde’s serious expression falters into something more concerned.

In the shower, Bucky had accidentally scrubbed his arm (his real arm) for a straight minute while he spaced out. It left an irritated patch of red on his joint to his wrist.

Steve looks at the man in front of him, more specifically his arm, with disbelief.

“Buck,” he says dully, “You need—Do you need aspirin? Or aloe for this? Did you scrape off your skin or something—ugh, hang on, come with me, we’re taking care of you before you step one foot outside this hotel.”

“Weren’t you gonna help out at the venue just now?” Bucky asks as Steve drags him into Sam and Clint’s room. The couple had left a few hours ago to god knows where, leaving a mess behind that makes even Bucky shudder.

“That can wait a few minutes while I make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m a grown man, Steve,” Bucky says hotly, “I can take care of myself.”

“You should get some food in your stomach,” Steve says, ignoring the man’s protests. “You look flushed, have you eaten anything? It’s almost one in the aftern—“

Bucky slaps Steve’s hand away. “Just. stop.” he seethes. “You’re not my boyfriend, Rogers, so stop fucking acting like one.”

Fuck.

If Steve is hurt by the statement, he doesn’t show it—he just takes Bucky’s face in his hands again, stubborn as always, and the shorter man grumbles to himself. “Bucky, you look as pale as a sheet of paper and you’re sweating profusely, you look sick. I’d mistake you for Samara from The Ring if I didn’t know who you were—“

“My hair ain’t that long,” says Bucky, frankly.

Steve makes him sit down on a bed. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment and re-emerges with a bottle of aloe vera, bandages, and a small container of aspirin.

“Why the hell did you pack all that shit?” he asks. Steve plops down on the bed next to him and makes a show of uncapping the aloe bottle, then holding his hand out for Bucky to put his arm on. He obliges.

“I had a feeling someone would do something dumb or get hurt. I wanted to be prepared.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I mean, just look what you did in one night alone. Was the guy handsome at least?”

Not as handsome as you, he thinks, but would rather chew off his own foot than say it aloud.

“I guess,” he mutters.

Steve nods.

“So,” Bucky mutters after a moment, “You gonna be nosy and ask me what’s wrong?”

“Why would I do that?” asks Steve, distractedly, as he spreads a layer of the cool gel onto Bucky’s skin.

“I dunno... that’s what anyone else would do.”

“You’re obviously not in the proper mindset right now, and I’m not going to aid to...” he pauses, “whatever this is. Trust me, Bucky, I’m not judging you for anything. It’s not your fault if you had a rough night,” Steve says, looking down at the man’s exposed collarbones—shit. “Yeah. Not a big deal.”

Bucky can only hope that it’s jealousy he hears in Steve’s voice.

They’re silent for a minute; Steve wrapping his arm with bandages, Bucky staring at the wall, and the TV blasting a rerun of iCarly.

“Thanks, Stevie,” he murmurs.

“No problem, Buck,” Steve says.

—

Once Bucky is properly taken care of (well, as properly as Steve can do with nothing but what he had in his carry on bag), Bucky hugs Steve gently as a farewell before he disappears down the elevator to god-knows-where.

Steve meets Peggy in the front lobby—‘What took so long?’ ‘Sorry, Pegs, I had something I needed to do’—and they take an uber to the vineyard where the wedding will take place the very next day. Steve had only seen some pictures of the cobblestone mansion, the ‘castle’ the reviews say, when he was helping Stephen and Tony pick out a venue almost a year ago.

“You know Mark-Paul Gosselaar got married at this place?” Tony had said, laptop in hand as he browsed through pictures of the place. Sunstone Vineyards and Winery, a beautiful old thing.

“Who the hell is that?” Stephen had asked.

“Oh my god,” Tony gasped. “Steve, please tell me you know who Mark-Paul Gosselaar is.”

Steve shrugged. “Sorry.”

“Jesus Christ, you uncultured—oh my fucking god. You never watched Saved By the Bell?”

“Saved By the What?” Stephen muttered, confused.

“Okay, fuck this,” Tony groaned, exiting out of the tab they were looking at the villa at, rapidly typing up ‘saved by the bell full episodes’ on Google.

Present day, Steve stands outside the castle in awe, the warm color of the stone and the golden grass on the ground almost mesmerizing, even as herds of Stark Industry interns and wedding planners rush around the property with purpose. Peggy and him see Stephen as they stumble into one of the grand hallways, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling in a rustic sort of way.

“No,” Stephen says dryly as a young woman shoves a cardboard box in his arms. His hair is unusually disheveled, he’s in nothing but a Shield Medical Course College sweatshirt and black jeans, with converse that look like they’d been dragged through the dirt way too many times. “Look, Donna, it’s already part of the layout plan to have the table runners with the baskets and the roses with accents of the sunflowers. We don’t need to add anything other than that, so will you please just drop it?”

“But it wouldn’t hurt for just a few spots of baby’s breath!” the girl whines. She looks no older than sixteen, honestly, and Steve cringes at the way Stephen’s eye twitches as if he wants to strangle himself.

“It’ll only stress Tony out more,” the groom explains, pointing to the ceiling as if the man in question is upstairs. “I finally got him to take a fucking breather and he’s been passed out for more than five minutes, which is a miracle. He’s already stressed out, Donna, and I don’t know if he’ll like the idea. Even if he doesn’t dislike the arrangements then he’ll still be irritated that it was done without the florists running it by him first, since he said before that he’s handling flowers and the company already fucked it up twice. So, for the love of god, will you please just run the errand for me?”

“You’re such a bum,” the girl teases.

“Please,” he groans. When Stephen catches sight of the two familiar faces in the hallway, he looks as if he just saw the sun for the first time in years. His face lights up “Peggy! When did you get in?”

The woman runs into his arms, her short stature making Stephen tower over her as they embrace in a hug. “Last night.”

“Who’s this?” the girl asks. Steve sees her look him up and down, like many women do in public, and the way her cheeks flush and her eyes widen when she sees him is telling enough. The kid has a crush. Cute.

“That’s Steve. He’s taken, so don’t even think about it,” Stephen says, so confidently that Steve doesn’t even realize he’s lying at first.

Donna frowns. Her disappointment is visible—Steve can only nod and hold out his hand in greeting, hoping that she doesn’t ask about his relationship status. He doesn’t even know what he’d say. “Steve. Steve Rogers.”

“Donna Strange,” she grins. “How old are you, Steve?”

“I already told you he’s off limits,” Stephen sneers.

“I’m just making conversation!”

“No, no, you’re completely boy crazy. You need to sit down and leave my friends be—“

“I am not boy crazy.”

“You literally tried flirting with Tony. Who I’m marrying tomorrow.”

“Tony Stark is rich, pretty, witty, and charming, okay, I can’t help that he has that sort of effect on me.”

“He’s five years older than you.”

“So? Dad is ten years older than mom.”

“You’re a child,” he says exasperatedly.

“Do you need help with anything?” Peggy asks, interrupting the argument, much to Steve’s appreciation. It was getting incredibly awkward standing between the siblings as they bantered. “I heard something about running an errand?”

“Oh,” he says, fiddling with his sweatshirt’s sleeve, “Donna was about to head out to the cleaners to pick up me and Tony’s suits—“

“No I’m not!” she interrupts, shoving a hand over Stephen’s mouth. “As much as I’d love to sit around and pick up dry cleaning, my big ol’ brother here doesn’t trust me to take his car, and I refuse to Uber on my own.”

“We could go,” Steve offers, and the teenage girl lights up.

“Yes! Thank you!”

“You guys sure you want to? I mean, Sam and Natasha are busy clearing out the courtyard, if you would rather do that. I could just pick it up myself later.”

“It’s just dry cleaning,” Peggy insists. “It’s no trouble at all.”

“The hill to get down onto the main road is steep.”

“Stephen,” Steve says, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We can get it. What’s the trouble?”

“Nothing. I just...” he frowns. “Me and Tony have a lot on our plate. I’m trying to take on as much as I can on my own without his help, he’s already getting an ear full with Howard. We don’t even know if the bastard is going to show up tomorrow. Since the Stark family is... notable, we have to make security during the wedding a priority too.” The man pauses, looking for the right words, and Peggy gives him a reassuring smile. “If you guys could go to town and do a few things, that’d be great. I’d really appreciate it.”

“Could you send us the address of the cleaners?”

“I’ll text it to you,” Donna says to Steve. Her intent is clear as soon as she utters the words. “What’s your number?”

“You little shit, I swear to god,” Stephen warns.

Peggy fishes into her purse for a phone as the blonde man reluctantly types his number into Donna’s phone. Great. Now he has to find out a way to let this kid down easy. “I’ll call an uber.”

“Wait. No, you don’t have to uber,” Stephen says.

“But... how else are we supposed to get there, then?”

“You know my husband is rich, right?” he asks, throwing Steve a set of keys. “Take the Porsche.”

—

Bucky, with everyone else occupied with their vacation in Santa Barbara, doesn’t exactly have anyone to talk to.

He’s not quite sure where anyone is, to be honest, except that Pepper, Rhodey, Steve, Wanda, Sam, and Natasha are helping run errands and organizing the venue for the big day. There are also others in the group making trips to the cleaners, getting everyone’s dresses and suits steamed and ironed, as well as scheduling hair and makeup for any ladies who wouldn’t be doing it themselves. Tony had established that it would be a good idea, since the wedding was going to be swarming with people from the media and paparazzi, and he wanted people to think his friends were hot.

Again, Tony’s words, not Bucky’s.

Of course, he wants to help out, but a few texts and calls confirm that there really isn’t anything else for him to do. Pepper, who’s actively dictating the fifty (and mostly teenaged) Stark Industry interns at the venue, told him to relax instead. Carol, who’s accompanying Val and the Udakus in making their rounds to the dry cleaners, had told him to find another hookup as she snickered into the receiver.

And, well, Bucky calls his best friend in the entire world.

“Hello?”

He stifles at the sound of her voice. Suddenly, he feels very homesick, as he picks up his clothes from around the hotel room and shoves them into a drawer. He’ll deal with that later. “H-Hey, mom.”

He can almost hear her smile through the phone. Oh god, he just wants to hug his mom. It’s been weeks since he’s hugged her. “Honey!” she exclaims as a clattering sound booms from the other side of the line. If Bucky can guess, she was in the middle of cooking and accidentally dropped a pot or something. Wouldn’t be the first time. “Shit.”

“Are you cooking, Ma?” he teases. “Oh shit, call the press. Dad isn’t cooking for the first time in years!”

“Language, James,” she says under her breath. Then the sound of the sink running, something sizzling, and then his mother sighing deeply. “Okay, I’ll deal with the consequences of burning my eighteen dollar gourmet casserole later. How’s Santa Barbara? Did you have a safe flight? Did you and Steve—“

“No, Ma, we didn’t,” he groans.

“A tragedy, really,” she sighs. “He’s such a nice young man. You know, when you two were together back in Marvel High, he was wonderful around the kitchen whenever he had dinner with us.”

“Unlike you?”

“Shut the hell up,” she says with no malice. “Did you at least bring some condoms with you? Protection isn’t a joke, Buck, I don’t want you catching chlamydia any time soon. You still owe me twenty dollars.”

And, well, Bucky groans. Again. Because as much as he loves his mother, she never really grew up from her teenage years. She still acts like the rebel she once was who crashed the Principal’s car into the lake back in... well, whatever decade she was in during high school.

Like when she packs Bucky extra condoms wherever he goes. Of course, having a cool mom you can be best friends with can be hilarious and fun, but where is the line? When does she actually teach him, show him how to be a good human, like many mothers do?

Steve’s (for the life of him, Bucky just can’t seem to keep a single thought about Steve out of his head for more than five minutes) mother acts like, well, a mother. She’s responsible, and caring, always used to scold Steve for staying out too late while him and Bucky were out on dates, always called Bucky ‘sweetheart’ whenever they interacted. Obviously Steve cares about his mom a lot. In their first year of college, he lived at home with her instead of getting a dorm room or an apartment.

What does Bucky’s mom do? Allowed him to drink alcohol at fifteen years old? Made weed brownies to serve at his seventeenth birthday party? Knew that, back when he was a sophomore and questioning his sexuality, she didn’t care that her son was dating a predatory upperclassman until it was too late?

As much as he feels bad about admitting it, Rebecca Barnes is many things—but a mother, she is not.

“Okay...” she says shortly, “I’m guessing something is wrong, hun?”

He inhales, shaking. “Yeah. Yeah, ma.”

“Is it Steve?” she asks, softer, and Bucky is suddenly reminded of why he loves his mother so much. Because he can spill his fucking guts out to her and she’ll always find a way to make it better.

“Mom, I don’t know what to do,” he cries, clutching his hair in his fist. “I really like him, but he doesn’t love me anymore. He’s moving onto bigger things now, he has a career in graphic design ahead of him, he’s always talking to Peggy fucking Carter now, and—and he’s too good. He’s too good for me, mom, He’ll never want someone like me.”

His mother retorts quickly, without a second thought, and her voice is dripping with something Bucky can’t really place. Anger? Sadness? Remorse? “First of all,” she says lowly, “Don’t you dare say that about yourself, James. When you say ‘someone like me’, I get very upset, first of all, because when you insult yourself you’re also insulting my son. You’re the heir to an oil company for fuck’s sake.”

“Mom,” he mutters.

“Second of all, Steve is a wonderful man, I’ll give him that. He’s also very attractive. And smart. And kind, and his shoulders are very broad, and his eyes are a piercing blue—“

“You’re not making me feel any better, ma.”

“But!” she says, pointedly, “Did he tell you, personally, that he doesn’t love you?”

“Noooo.”

“Does he have a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend, of course, let’s not rule anything out here.”

“I’m pretty sure he’s been snuggling up with Peggy for a while now. She was the student council vice president in high school, you remember her. She visits from England every few months, now, and when she does, they’re practically attached by the hip!” He throws his hands into the air, frustrated, feeling all his annoyance reach its peak as tears flow from his eyes. “What if I try to shoot my shot and he doesn’t like me? What does that say about me? That I’m not good enough for the only guy I’ve ever loved?”

“If he doesn’t love you,” she says slowly, “Or if he doesn’t even see you in that way anymore, then fuck it. You’re James Buchanan fucking Barnes. But honey, if he doesn’t like you romantically anymore, that doesn’t mean you’re not good enough. It just means that he’s moved on. Nothing wrong with that.”

Bucky pauses. “Tony and Stephen... they’re moving on with their lives. I’m so happy for them, believe me, I just...”

“You wish you were still the most popular boy in school who got into fights and rolled shopping carts down the hallway?”

“I had everything I ever wanted back then,” he breathes. “Until I met Steve, and then I grew up, and I lost him.”

“You’re hopeless,” his mother teases.

“I know,” he admits.

—

Steve feels anxious, driving in a car worth more than his own life.

—

Bucky meets with Clint for lunch. They go to this hole-in-the-wall diner with waitresses that roll around on skates and 80s music blasting from a worn down speaker in the corner. Bucky doesn’t have much of an appetite, only ordering a milkshake, but steals fries from Clint’s plate every time he looks away.

“Youw knowh,” the man says, mouth full of burger, “I’m preh’y shouw tha’ Scott an’ Pehtro are, like, banhginh.”

“I thought Scott and Hope were still vibing?”

“Nah, mahn. You see Loki’s story?”

“His private?”

“Yah.”

“Oh. The one with Pietro riding Scott?”

“Yah.”

“That’s an unexpected pair,” Bucky mutters.

Clint swallows his food, thankfully, before talking again. “I dunno. Maybe it’s a picture taken out of context and Loki’s jus’ being chaotic again.”

“Probably,” he says, “I’m pretty sure that Scott and Pietro are just friends. There’s no way.”

“What does Sam think?”

A laugh. “He thinks it’s fucking hilarious.”

And, well, as Clint talks, Bucky takes in the appearance of his friend of many years. He’s covered fuckin’ head to toe in bandaids, but that’s been the case for years now. He drinks coffee by the pot, but again, what else is new? When Clint talks about Sam, he looks happy. He looks so earnest it’s sickening.

He doesn’t know what he’d do without Clint.

“Steve had a sleepover with us last night, by the way,” Clint says, “Sam and him watched movies and prank called people while eating Doritos, like, all night.”

“Oh? And what were you doing?”

“Sleeping. I was tired, leave me alone.”

“Gimme a fry.”

“No.”

“Gimme.”

“Nooooooo!”

Bucky pins Clint’s hands down onto the table and takes one anyways. “That’s not fair. Having a bionic prosthetic arm with enhanced strength should be illegal.”

“I paid good money for this arm, I’m not gonna not have super strength.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint mutters, rolling his eyes. “You mean your parents paid good money.”

“...They chipped in.”

“How much?”

Bucky counts on his fingers.

“A lot,” he mutters.

“You’re so spoiled.”

“Look, my parents pay for my needs, I pay for my wants.”

“You’re a grown man.”

“Don’t be jealous that they love me.”

“No wonder you’re always sneaking money into Steve’s wallet. You’re practically rolling in it, with how much your parents pay for your textbooks and shit. Why do you do that, anyways?”

Bucky shrugs. “Just trying to help him out. Him and his mom aren’t exactly rolling in it.”

“I guess so. I mean, their loans must be a pain in the ass, even with her working at that florists and him interning for that studio thing—“

“Wait, what are you talking about?”

Clint looks up, confused, an eyebrow raised as his attention is taken away from his burger and to a concerned looking Bucky. “Their loans. He told Sam that he’s gonna have to keep working them off, for like, another three years before they won’t have to worry about it anymore—“

“No,” Bucky says, but he’s still uncertain. He looks torn, like he’s in between choosing Pepsi or Coke. “No. He said that his mom’s sister who lives in Ohio helped pay the rest.”

Staring, Clint looks at Bucky as if he has three damn heads. I’m pretty sure that Steve told Sam, like, two months ago. He said they’re barely halfway done.”

“Steve told me about his mom’s sister paying for the rest of the bills almost a year ago.”

The two gape at each other for a minute straight. One second, Bucky has his eyebrows drawn tight in confusion with his mouth agape, milkshake straw in hand, and the next he’s getting up and storming outside.

“B-Bucky!” Clint calls, scrambling for his wallet and leaving a twenty dollar bill on the table, following the man outside. “Buck, what the fuck! I didn’t even get to finish my burger!!”

—

Bucky storms into the Marriott, smoke practically coming from his ears.

“Buck,” Clint calls, tailing right behind him up the stairs. He follows the man for over ten floors, fatigue overtaking his lungs and legs as he stumbles his way after Bucky. There’s no way this will end well, with how upset he was when Clint told him the truth. Guilt blooms in his chest as he unsuccessfully tries to grab the man as they finally get to their floor.

He barely catches sight of Steve talking to Carol in their shared hallway before Bucky meets his palm with Steve’s jaw, slapping him. Hard.

“What the hell?!” Carol shrieks.

Steve falls to the floor, clutching his red jaw with his hands, staring up at the seething man above him. “B-Bucky, what the—“

“You lied to me!” Bucky cries. “You said—You said that all of her bills were paid off! You fucker, you lied to me—!”

“Bucky, come on!” Clint yells, pushing his friend back. “Calm down, dude!”

“Woah woah woah woah woah, take it easy!” Thor says, helping Steve up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Carol helps Clint hold Bucky back. Hot tears spill out of his eyes as he thrashes and nearly elbows Clint in the dick. “You lied to me, you asshole, you told me your fucking aunt paid off the rest. I could have helped! Why the fuck did you do that?!”

“Bucky,” Steve yelps. “Bucky, look, I didn’t—I didn’t want you to worry—“

“Were you just trying to humor me or something, say you didn’t want me to help you? Did you think it’d be an inconvenience on your part?! Why the hell did you lie?!”

“My mom is my responsibility!” Steve snaps, shaking Thor off of him. “It’s something I had to do on my own! Fucking pardon me if I wanted to pay off her bills by myself!”

“YOU’RE SO STUBBORN,” Bucky screams, more out of pure sadness and confusion than real anger. “Why the FUCK do you feel like you have to do everything on your own—“

“You know what, Buck?” the taller man sneers. “You’ve never had to worry about money! You were born with loving parents and a five bedroom house with a flat screen TV and your life already paid for! Look at the fucking car you drive, the fucking money you spend per week! You’ve never had to worry about being in debt, because you were born with a damn silver spoon in your mouth—“

“So what?!”

“So you don’t fucking get it! You’ve always had mommy and daddy there to clean up your messes for you, and you don’t know how it feels to—to struggle to even afford food for the month. My mom took care of me when I was a kid,” he scoffs. “My dad left us, we lived in a shitty one-bedroom condo in the hood, yet she still did everything she could to pay for my medication, and my hospital stays, and my asthma, everything! It’s my turn to take care of her!”

“Boo fucking hoo,” says Bucky, impulsively. “Save your pride while you can. It’ll kill you one day, you know, Steve—the fucking pride you wear like a damn crown—“

“You don’t have anything to say about wearing a fucking crown, okay, because you’re a BRAT. You’re a spoiled little brat, Bucky, and you know what else?”

“SHUT UP!!”

“You’re such a child,” Steve huffs. “You’re so used to people eating handouts out of your damn hand. You need to realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you. I don’t want your money.”

More tears spill from Bucky’s eyes. He points a finger at Steve, looking desperate, confused, and betrayed. Clint can almost hear the way Bucky’s heart shatters as each word soaks in. “I hate you,” he sobs.

“Yeah? Well I’m not too hot about you either.”

The two are silent for a straight minute, huffing and trying to get their breaths back.

Carol motions for Thor to take Steve away.

“Let’s go somewhere else, Rogers,” Thor tries, ushering the furious man away to the elevator.

“Thor,” Steve groans.

“Steve, please. I’ll take you to 7-11 or something. The both of you,” he looks towards Bucky and Clint nervously, “Need to calm down. Come on. Let’s go downstairs.”

The two men leave. Carol turns to a very, very heartbroken Bucky.

“What the hell was that?” she demands.

Clint answers her instead, not wishing to upset his friend even more—who kind of just ... stares at the floor, eyes wide, wetness covering his cheeks. “I don’t—fuck, I slipped up, I told Bucky about Steve working overtime to pay off his mom’s treatments, and I had no idea that Steve told Buck that it was all covered, and Bucky got really mad and I chased him down from the car trying to get him to stop.”

Carol crosses her arms, eyebrow raised, at a loss for words.

“Why can’t he pay it for himself?”

“Because—ugh, it’s not even that, Danvers,” Bucky croaks, “It’s just... why lie to me about it? What was he trying to do, prove a point? Try to shut me up by showing me he can do it himself?”

“I don’t think that’s why,” she deadpans.

“Whatever,” he groans, fleeing to his room, Clint following him like a lost puppy. “Go make out with Valkyrie or something. I’m too stressed out for this shit.”

—

Before Tony can even read the caller ID, his stomach fills up with pure dread.

His phone had been forgotten all day, for the most part, as he orders around a bunch of assistants from the company and taste-tests a bunch of food and cake samples thrown his way—yes, goddammit, he knows that it’s really last minute to decide on cake flavors and catering menus, but he’s too exhausted to care. The cake is going to be made by a famed baker, she had already given the okay to start on the cake the day before, and food is one of the last things on his mind right now.

“Make it five tiers,” Tony says offhandedly, licking his lips. “Red velvet. Tell her to keep it sleek, and don’t go too heavy on the buttercream, I swear to god.”

“Y-Yes, Mr. Stark,” the girl with the samples says, scattering away.

Tony frowns. Poor girl. He’ll be sure to give her a raise, he didn’t mean to intimidate her so much. “Your phone is ringing,” Pepper says as she walks by, holding a box of lace table runner cloths. “Pretty sure it’s Howard. It’s about the time he calls you to pester you about projects.”

Tony scoffs, answering it immediately. “You’ve reached Tony Stark.”

“Anthony, you really are a stick up my ass.” Go figure it’s the one person he has absolutely no desire to talk to.

“Greetings to you, too, dad,” he says grimly.

Howard doesn’t address his remark, thank god, but Tony doesn’t know if he’d prefer the opposite or not. “Do you have any idea why I’m calling right now?”

“Not really.”

“Of course you don’t. You’ve never been the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

“Look, dad, if you’re not gonna get to the point, then I’m gonna hang up. I’m busy as fuck right now and as much as I love our father-son conversations, I’d rather drink bleach than listen to you nagging me for much longer.”

“You never finished the blueprint,” Howard grunts.

“What blueprint?”

“The layout of the bionic engine components for the fighter jet we’ve been test-running. You were to present them Sunday morning, but I just got a call from Stane that you didn’t even bother to show up, let alone take the drafts to the office.”

“Whoopsie,” Tony says, but he really doesn’t care.

“You’re becoming ignorant,” his father says. “We made a deal. You marry this man, you do your work without question. If this little relationship becomes a distraction to you, I will not hesitate to—“

“Hang on, hang on, hang on. Who the hell pissed in your cheerios?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m marrying Stephen. I love him. I’ve been dealing with this wedding for the past six months of my life, I’m pouring my fucking guts into it, so sorry if I forget about some damn fighter jet components. I think you’ll live.”

“Figures. I always knew that you would turn out to be useless in the end, you know. There was a time when I thought you had the potential to be my greatest creation, but the past few years have shown me that everything I’ve ever doubted about you had been correct of me.”

Tony’s own body decides to betray him at the moment, because he feels his eyes begin to fucking burn. Tears build up, threatening to spill over like a waterfall, and the most frustrating part is that he doesn’t know why. He blames it on stress, blinking them away regardless. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Nothing I’ve ever done has been good enough for you.”

“If I were there right now,” Howard sneers, “I would backhand your sorry ass so hard that you’d fall to the floor.”

“Whatever,” the younger man scoffs, assistants glancing at him worryingly as his voice wavers. “Look, just—I’ll finish them when I get back to the tower. I will.”

“Oh, I know you will,” Howard says manically. “Because you don’t want to know what’ll happen if you disobey my orders again, Anthony, do you understand?”

“I’m twenty two!” Tony roars into the phone. As expected, the assistants that once buzzed around him like worker bees are suddenly scared shitless at their boss’s anger. They look like they’d just been jump scared, they look so shaken. “I’m not a fucking child, okay, I don’t follow your orders anymore, and I marry whoever the fuck I want to marry because I _want to_.”

“Then don’t expect me to show my face tomorrow, because I refuse to be associated by a fag—“

“Don’t fucking say it,” Tony cries.

“Fine. Let me rephrase—A floozy. You’re not even man enough to talk to me without crying like a little wimp.”

“_FUCK YOU!_” Tony screams into the receiver, throwing his phone on the floor and crushing it under his foot before Howard can even get another word out of his dumb fucking mouth. He tugs at his hair, breathing heavily, the world feeling like it’s crushing into him. The floor feels harder under his trembling legs, and the air feels denser as he struggles to breath. He just needs—he needs Rhodey, or Pepper, or Peter, or—

“Mr. Stark?” the same girl from before asks timidly, speaking up when no one else has the courage to do so. Everyone else stands around, whispering, some even try to pretend they don’t see him having a fucking mental breakdown right in front of them. “Do you—Do you need me to get Mr. Strange?”

Stephen. He needs Stephen. He’ll make everything better. He always does.

“_Yes_,” Tony huffs, and then he’s sinking to the floor with his hands over his face.

—

“That sucked ass,” Clint says shortly, watching as Bucky flops face down onto his bed and begins to scream into his pillow.

—

“What the fuck, Thor,” Steve breaths, jamming a straw into his blue slurpee cup and taking a long, much needed gulp. “I mean, I didn’t do anything wrong! It’s not Bucky’s job to pay for my shit. He’s not my sugar daddy or anything! Why the hell—Why is it such a big fucking deal that I didn’t tell him?”

Thor stands there, silently, bringing his straw to his lips as he takes a dramatic sip of his milkshake. Steve grunts.

“I didn’t... I didn’t think he’d be so pissed about it. I didn’t think he _cared_.”

Thor looks down.

Scoffing, Steve throws his arms into the air. “Come on, man. Will you please say something? Anything?”

“I mean, I think you and Barnes said it all. He’s upset that you didn’t tell him. You’re upset because you don’t think it’s his business.”

“But, I mean, it’s...”

“It’s what?” Thor asks.

“I—I don’t even know, anymore,” he admits.

“Look, Rogers, you and Barnes are nothing short of relationship material, I’ll give you that. These last few years, you’ve been wrapped around each other’s thumbs. You’d take bullets for each other. Right?”

Steve hesitates. “Yeah. I would. I almost _did_.”

“Maybe he feels betrayed that you wouldn’t tell him something so important to you,” Thor says calmly, “Maybe he feels like he would be the first person to know in the first place. Maybe he thinks you two should be more than friends, and that’s why he’s so upset.”

“What, so I just... kiss his ass and say that I was wrong, buy him flowers and take him on a date?”

Thor scrunches up his nose.

“Look,” the taller man says, placing his cup down in the slushee counter. “If you don’t do something about it, Barnes will be too scared to apologize, that is, if he even wants to apologize in the first place. That’s just how he is.”

“I’d honestly prefer that,” grumbles Steve.

“Talk to him.”

He pauses. “I’ll think about it.”

—

Natasha, for some reason knowing that something was awry (she’s probably a witch. Bucky will bet on that), walks in on Clint and Bucky snuggling while watching Miss Congeniality on TV.

“Privacy,” Bucky mutters, watching as the girl turns on the light and grabs the remote from the edge of the bed, turning their movie off.

“Nat!” whines Clint, springing up from under the covers. Natasha cocks her hand on her hip, unimpressed to a T. “Sandra Bullock was just about to get her glow up!”

“What the hell happened?” She says gruffly.

Bucky exhales. “It was nothi—“

“It was _something_,” groans Clint.

“How did you even know something happened?”

Natasha narrows her eyes. “I know everything.”

“Then, logically, there’s no point in asking what happens if you already know.”

“Did Thor text you?”

“He called.”

“Fuckin’ god,” says Clint. “That guy can’t keep secrets for shit.”

“First of all, I don’t understand why it’s a secret—“

“It’s not!” Bucky seethes. “It was—It was stupid. It was nothing that you need to be concerned about, trust the process.”

“You need to talk to him,” Natasha says shortly.

“What? No. I’m not talking to him—“

“They’re just gonna fight again, Nat.”

“I literally—I literally can’t even think about him right now. I’m, like, I’m shaking. I’m pissed at him. It’s not even the fact that—no. It’s the fact that he lied. I thought I was more... more important to him, what the fuck!”

Natasha sits on the bed, leaning forward, her face merely six inches from Bucky’s. Her expression is grim. “Then tell him that.”

Clint sputters. “N-Nat, what?!”

“You want to tell him off, do it,” the girl says. “You want to apologize, say sorry. You need to do something about this. I’ll kill you both if you don’t.”

Sinking farther into the bed nervously, Bucky winces. “But...”

“What you decide to do isn’t my decision. I’m—I’m done trying to... maneuver the situation. You’re a person, you should do things on your own. You need to.”

“Maneuver the situation?”

“Don’t ask,” she sighs.

“I mean, technically aren’t you trying to maneuver the situation if you’re trying to make Bucky confront—“

“Shut up, Clint.”

“Okay. Well, I’m out of here, I’m tired of this shit. I’m gonna go to a club with Sam. Later.”

Clint leaves. Bucky sighs.

“What am I supposed to even say?” he asks coldly.

“Apologize for hitting him. That was a bit much.”

“I was mad. It was justified.”

“James Buchanan Barnes—“

“Ew, gross. Don’t call me that. The last person to call me by my full name was an attorney.”

“I feel like you forget that I’m your best friend in the entire world.”

“I never forget that, Natty.”

“So,” she says, crossing her arms. “I get special privileges. You shouldn’t have slapped him.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, but sighs nonetheless, accepting defeat. “Okay.”

“You want shots?”

“When the fuck do I not?”

—

Steve and Thor don’t make it very far out of the car before the shorter man freezes in his tracks, looking like a deer in the headlights once he catches sight of two familiar, terrifying faces walking out of the lobby doors.

“No,” a calm-looking Bucky says distantly, “I thought it was pronounced—“

“It’s pronounced Gran-dy, apparently,” Natasha says.

“But everyone’s been saying Ariana Grande for years, why would—why would she only correct it recently?”

“Dunno.”

Bucky scowls. “Pop stars. Airheads, the lot of em.’”

Thor, like a madman, coughs into his fist. A plea for attention. Steve elbows him in the side.

The two snap their heads into the direction of the men.

“Oh,” Natasha says dryly. “You.”

“Bucky,” Steve says. He doesn’t add anything else, doesn’t even know what he’d say—he just needed to say it. Bucky doesn’t react. He stays silent by Natasha’s side, her gaze sharp.

“Rogers would like to say something to—“

“Like what?” says the redhead. “And I don’t think it’s our place to speak for them, big guy.”

“Fine. I don’t talk, you don’t talk. You know this is—Romanov, we should be having a mature conversation, not making petty pleas for apologies.”

“Fine!” says Bucky, turning to Steve. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hit you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

It’s not that the simple apology really settles the air, in Steve’s opinion, but the fact that it’s an apology in itself is enough to make his shoulder feel less weighed down. Well, only a little, but still.

He’s about to open his mouth to apologize as well when Bucky interrupts him, expression blank yet condescending.

“But I’m not sorry for yelling at you.”

“Sweet Jesus,” whispers Thor, turning away.

Steve’s mind goes blank. “Um.”

“Really, Steve, I don’t think you understand what an asshole you are,” he says. “You—You seriously think you’re some sort of—my god. You think I’m some sort of spoiled brat, who’s had everything in life given to me, like I haven’t lived through hell before. Steve, if you lived through what I have, I swear—“

“I never said anything about what you’ve been through. I said how you were born into a rich family, so—“

“So what? So I was born with a ‘silver spoon’?” he asks. “Just because I have some fucking dough it doesn’t mean—it doesn’t mean that I’m not entitled to give it to people, people who need it!”

“Jesus, Buck, I’m not a fuckin’ peasant, okay? I’m fine. My mom is fine, we live in a two story house, we’ve got food on the table, we’re fine. I don’t need you to treat me like a charity case, so unless you stop treating me like one—“

“That’s not the only reason I’m pissed at you, asshole!” Bucky yells.

“Then why?!”

“Because you lied! You lied to me, about something as important as that?! I—I thought I was more important to you than that,” Bucky says. His voice suddenly sounds sad. He sounds emotional, as if his heart aches and his cheeks feel numb. “I thought you thought I was different.”

Natasha huffs, hands stuffed into her pockets as she stands behind the man.

Steve doesn’t know what to say.

“My mistake,” Bucky seers. “You’re not my responsibility. You’re not—you’re nothing different than everyone else. I shouldn’t feel the way I do.”

“Then why do you?” Steve says coldly, before he can even debate against it. “Why can’t... why can’t you just move on from me?”

The ‘why do you make me love you so much that it hurts?’ remains unsaid.

Bucky scoffs.

“_Fuck you, Rogers.”_

A bright, white light acts as a spotlight as it washes over the four young adults, Thor using his arm to cover his eyes as they stare down the source.

Steve recognizes the car immediately, dread filling his stomach.

—

Tony had slammed the drivers side door of the Porsche closed, marching over to Steve and Bucky with a robe pulled over his shoulders and his feet encased in bunny slippers. Wherever he came from, he left in a hurry, Steve determines in the split second he has before the man is screaming in front of his face.

Stephen steps out of the passengers side, looking regretful. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, scrambling over to tug his fiancé away. “I couldn’t stop him from leaving.”

Natasha growls. “Stephen, what the hell is this—“

“You,” Tony spits, stabbing a finger into Steve’s chest, “Are a jackass. You fucking—you fucking asshole!”

Bucky stands off to the side; he looks tired, looks as if he just wants to go home. Stephen takes him by the shoulders and walks him away, whispering, away from Steve’s sight. Tony continues screaming at him, shoving at him, fury dripping from all of his words. “I did not spend the past three days of my life slaving away for this damn wedding,” he hisses, “just to find out that my wedding guests are having some fucking lovers quarrel and slapping each other and having mental breakdowns while professing their hate for each other inside the Marriott hotel—”

“Oh, whatever, Tony,” Steve groans, “This is not a lover’s quarrel, okay, and it’s none of your concern—!”

“Spare me!” the man bellows. “Look—take it from the son of one of the richest men in America. It’s not about the money. It’s about being there to _help_, to show—ugh! Bucky just wants to show that you can count on him, okay?! It’s not about trying to buy his way into your life or some shit—“

“I never said that!”

“Shut the fuck up!! The adult is talking!”

Natasha had stepped up to the scene, getting between the men, her frustrations over the night tearing into them like knives through butter as she shoved them apart.

“Thor, hold Tony back,” she says grimly, and he obliges.

“Get the fuck off me, Thor, before I kick your beefcake ass so hard you’ll fly back to Norway!” Tony screams, voice thick, as Thor grabs his torso from behind and lifts him in the air like nothing. His legs kick around childishly as he thrashes, trying to break free. “_THOR I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU—_“

“Jesus Christ, Tony, calm the fuck down,” Stephen cautions, comforting a very quiet Bucky by running a hand down his back as tears stream down the man’s face.

“Bucky’s in love with you, asshole,” Tony snaps. “He’s been in love with you since we were seventeen. You’re too fucking naive—to oblivious to see it, Rogers, and that’s the problem. You’re too fucking dense to see that you have your perfect guy right in front of you,” he yells, “Too fucking stupid—too _noble_ for your own good.”

“Stark!” Thor gawks.

Natasha stands in front of Steve. “This isn’t just about Steve, alright? This is neither of their faults—“

“Oh, children, children,” Tony spits. “This back and forth pining was amusing at first. But now? It’s getting sort of stale,” he grins manically as he elbows Thor in the face, making the man drop him. Tony scrambles away and dusts himself off. “For the past three years we’ve all put up with your shit. You know how stubborn you are? The both of you?”

He throws on a face of remorse, a fake one, however, as he talks and pretends to be sympathetic. “Oh, look at poor little Stevey! All he wants is to settle down with the guy he loves, but guess what? Bucky’s too busy fighting off some past trauma, and thoughtful old Steve doesn’t want to cause any trouble! So _sad_.”

“Oh, _shut_ up!” yells Bucky, voice cracking.

“And look at our good friend James Buchanan Barnes,” Tony sobs mockingly, “He’s so distracted and oblivious that his crush could profess his love right to his face, but he’d still think,” he laces his fingers together, resting his closed hands against his cheek and batting his eyelashes, “‘oh, he’ll never like me back.’ He’s so blinded by his trust issues that he’s afraid that his next relationship will end up like his last, even though he knows that Steve isn’t like Rumlow. Maybe it’s because he still wants to know what Steve’s like in the sack before making any commitments!”

“_Shut up!_” Steve screams.

“So,” the man continues, “If we could all end this rendezvous where it stands, right here, right now, then do it. Just strip your fucking clothes off, go to Bucky’s hotel room, and _RAW EACH OTHER ALREADY_!”

This time, no one says anything.

Steve shakes with anger. And embarrassment, not that he’d admit it.

Tony huffs, he huffs and huffs, and after a seconds it’s kind of breathy and panicky—as if he can’t breathe.

Stephen rushes over to comfort his fiancé. “Tony, you need to take a brea—”

“Fuck,” he says, angrily. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck, fuck—“_

“Tony?” Natasha says.

“Hey,” says Steve, as calmly as possible. “Are you—shit, Tony, are you...” Tony begins hyperventilating. Immediately, everyone drops their anger, forgetting about the situation at hand, and exchange worrying glances. Natasha and Stephen hold Tony, who shrinks into himself as he cries, and he suddenly looks much younger.

“I’m sorry,” he sniffs. “Look, I—I’m sorry. I was an _asshole_, I didn’t mean to be—be like _him_. I didn’t mean that. B-Bucky, Steve, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Bucky says warily.

Thor holds his jaw in his hands, which is most likely going to bruise from when Tony elbowed his face. He glances at Bucky, at his anxious expression. “Barnes, do you want to go inside and see Sam? Or Clint, or Peter?”

“No,” he mutters, despite the way he shakes in the chill breeze of the night. “I don’t wanna leave.”

Stephen holds Tony close to his chest, the man’s face tucked into his neck. God, their height difference makes Tony look so small, so tired, so meek. “I’m sorry, guys,” Stephen says, exhausted. “I—I’ll talk to you guys, okay? I need to take Tony home.”

“I thought he was gonna stay at the hotel tonight,” Natasha points out.

“Change of plans. Room’s paid for, Steve, you can take it for tonight. He’s coming back with me.”

“I’ll drive you back,” Thor offers. “You can sit with him in the back seat.”

“Thanks, Thor,” Stephen agrees after a moment, and the three walk back to the Porsche, Thor going for the drivers’ side. They drive off without much preamble, leaving Bucky, Steve and Natasha alone in the dark.

The night is quiet, Steve realizes, and the gravity of the situation hits him—literally—as Natasha slaps the both of them in the face. Hard.

“You two,” she hisses, “Are idiots.”

“Natalia...” Bucky starts.

“No. тебе нужно поговорить с ним об этом—“

“Nat—“

“Тоny был прав, даже если он был мудаком об этом. Это заканчивается. Прямо сейчас.”

“Я влюблена в него, Natasha,” Bucky says, and even in a different language that Steve can’t understand, he can feel the weight of his words just by how desperate he looks while saying it. He sobs, like a child who just lost something important. “Я боюсь.”

“Мы все такие.”

“Я все испортил. Тоny и Stephen ненавидят меня. Steve ненавидит меня.”

“Они не ненавидят тебя,” she groans.

Steve stands between the two, longing to know what they’re saying. He watches as Bucky cries his guts out, talking so fast that Natasha looks like she’s struggling to keep up. His russian is rusty, even Steve can hear that Bucky’s American accent seeps through with every word he says.

Eventually, however, Bucky goes back to English without even realizing it.

“почему я даже пытаюсь, anymore? Зачем am I все еще так повесил on getting Steve Rogers to like me back?”

“Did you even listen to a word Tony said?” Natasha asks, looking strained.

Steve gapes at Bucky. Surely he didn’t say what Steve thinks he said.

“Look,” she says, rubbing her eyes. “I’m exhausted. I’m tired. The wedding is tomorrow, and you—we caused enough trouble as it is. The last thing we need is for Tony and Stephen’s big day to be ruined.” Natasha looks to Steve, who honestly feels more pathetic than ever as he glances to the floor. “You both can hold whatever grudges you want. Tony was being an asshole, but like I said to Bucky, he was right about all of it, you can quote me on that. Just don’t drag this onto tomorrow. We’re here in California to see out friends get married, not start drama.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve mutters.

“I don’t want to hear a word,” she warns, zipping up her jacket and stuffing her hands in the pockets. “Bucky, during that trial, you said you’d move on. And you did. I’m so, so proud of you, but you need to stop being an immature dick and get over yourself. You’re not scared of commitment. You’re scared of being rejected.”

Bucky frowns.

“Steve,” she continues, “You are just as guilty. You need to stop trying to be selfless, stop trying to be right all the time, and you need to make a move. Please, for the love of god, just kiss him already,” she pleads. “And spare us of the sexual tension. It’s old.”

Steve looks away.

“I’m going back inside,” Natasha says, backing away. “You two do what you want. I’m done playing matchmaker.”

—

_ **~two years ago~** _

_“It’s okay, man,” Sam says, desperately, trying to pry Bucky’s arms away from his face as he kicks and thrashes his blanket away, hair sticking to his forehead from sweat._

_”Get the fuck off of me—!”_

_”I’m not Brock!” Sam pleads. Successfully, he manages to pin the man’s arms away from his head so that he’s able to look up and see him surroundings, and more importantly, that he’s not in any danger. Bucky continues hyperventilating as his eyes dart around the room and over Sam’s face._

_”Sam,” Bucky croaks._

_”Yeah,” he says, sighing, “Yeah. It’s me.”_

_”Where’s Steve?”_

_The two words almost make him do a double take. The situation—just mere seconds ago, Sam had woken up to Bucky crying and thrashing in his sleep, probably having a night terror about... well, the obvious. When Bucky immediately asks about Steve, it sends a wave of confusion throughout the tight and cluttered dorm room._

_“He—He’s at his house,” Sam says. “With his mom. Do you need him? Do you need Steve?”_

_Hot tears stream down Bucky’s face. “Yes,” he breathes, shuddering. “I need him. Need—Need Steve.”_

_Sam grabs his phone, because he’s a good friend like that._

—

An hour later, Steve finds himself inside an empty, quiet hotel room. It’s the one that Tony originally paid for for himself, something about being traditional and spending the night before the ceremony away from Stephen. Element of surprise, he’d said, but now it’s out the window.

And, well, normally he wouldn’t accept Stephen’s offer of spending the night in there, except he felt pretty awful about third wheeling Clint and Sam again, and Stephen called him to confirm that Steve should just stay in the extra room and not make it a waste of money.

The bed feels too soft. The ceiling seems too high. The walls seem too far apart.

Steve feels as small as can be.

—

Bucky is laying face down in his bed when there’s a knock at his door. He doesn’t want to open it at first, too tired to care enough.

And, well, he wants to sleep. He really does.

Until the knocking gets louder, more urgent, and he grunts as he throws himself out of bed and onto his feet. He wasn’t exactly ready to sleep yet, jeans still on and shoes still tied—okay, maybe he shouldn’t be on the hotel bed with shoes on.

He opens the door to find Bruce standing there, looking relieved.

“Jesus Christ,” Bruce shudders, taking in Bucky’s appearance.

The man shrugs. He hugs Bruce, and he doesn’t exactly know why. They’d never really been too close. Maybe it’s just the happiness of seeing a familiar face that he doesn’t have a reason to be mad towards.

“I heard what happened,” Bruce says, still pressed against Bucky as they hug in the doorway. “Wanted to make sure you were still okay.”

“How did you find out?”

“My boyfriend is pretty bad at keeping secrets,” he admits.

There’s a beat of silence. An awkward one at that.

“You—Bruce,” Bucky mutters after a moment, hiding his face behind his hair. “Do you think I ruined everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, ruined the wedding before it even started?”

Bruce pulls away, looking up at Bucky with his eyebrows drawn tight. “What? No.”

“But I made Tony mad. He’d already been stressed enough. I added to it by slapping Steve in the face. Then he found out, and it just... it escalated. Stephen had to drag him away.”

“No, no, no,” Bruce says, shaking his head. Bucky motions for him to come into the room, and he does; they both sit on the edge of the bed, a safe distance apart. “Look, man, you’re not the only reason Tony had his blowout. He’s been getting a lot of shit the past few days from Howard and Maria. All I heard is that he received an angry phone call about how Howard disapproves of the whole thing, how he only allowed Tony to date males back in school as long as he got his work done, and how he decided that the wedding was a disgrace to the family name.”

“Is Howard coming to the wedding?” Bucky asks, shaken.

“From the looks of it, if he decides to show up, Tony might sock him in the face.”

“How’s...” he sniffs, wiping his eyes, and says, “How is Stephen taking it?”

“Terribly,” Bruce says frankly, “He feels unwelcome. Like everything is his fault. One of the richest millionaires in the world hates his guts for marrying the next heir to his company. If it’s any consolation, though, I think he’s taking the pressure quite well so far.”

“Jesus,” Bucky murmurs.

“They don’t hate you,” Bruce reassures. His eyes are soft, kind, and Bucky wonders why he’d never had an actual talk with Bruce before. “Everything is just building up right now. They’re stressed, but it’s not because of you.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t want me at the wedding. If I show up tomorrow, it’ll just be awkward.”

There’s a beat of silence; Bruce considering his words, Bucky staring at his hands, feeling small.

“Buck. Do you remember senior year?”

“...Yeah?”

“Do you remember the first day you met Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“And you remember taking him out for boba with the rest of your little group?”

“The Jojo Siwa Cult? What about it?” he sniffs.

“After school, Tony texted Peter that you were bad news and to stay away from you,” Bruce says. “Way back in sophomore year, he made fun of you. Called you a lone wolf loser.”

“Gee, thanks for telling me that. Makes me feel a lot better.”

“He told me a few days ago, you know, that if he told his fifteen year old self that Bucky Barnes would be a groomsmen to his wedding one day, he would have been so shocked he’d go into cardiovascular relapse.”

“So?”

“So,” Bruce explains, “it means that he considers you a best friend. Obviously in the past seven years you’ve done enough good to change his impression of you, and that means you’re doing something right.”

“I fucked that up.”

“What? By having a bit of relationship drama? Believe me, Tony and Stephen are not that shallow.”

“Steve hates me,” Bucky argues.

“Steve loves you,” Bruce corrects.

“You don’t know that.”

“You may think that, but you don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking,” he says softly. “He talks to me about you all the time. He says it takes all his self control to not run his hands through your hair constantly. And he says that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. And that—and that your laugh makes him happier than anything. That’s what he says.”

“No way,” sneers Bucky, standing up and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What? You think I’m lying?”

“...”

“I’m not a liar, Barnes,” Bruce says shortly. He stands as well, straightening his shirt out and adjusting his glasses. “But you believe what you want to believe. I won’t hold you up much longer, I’m sure you have plans.”

Bucky’s silent, only looking on as the shorter man approaches the door, flashing a small smile.

“G’night,” Bruce says, making his exit.

—

Steve stares at the ceiling.

Not only does he stare at the ceiling, but he throws a small bouncy ball into the air, catching it with one hand, throwing it back up. A cycle. A simple, organized, calculated cycle. Which, of course, is a huge contrast to the mess inside of his head right now.

He just can’t stop thinking about what Tony and Natasha said. How Steve was playing it too safe for the past few years. How he wouldn’t take the leap, all in favor of being noble and good by leaving Bucky alone. And for what? Staying single for the rest of his life, just waiting for the right moment—the right opportunity— to tell the love of his life how he truly feels?

“I do _not_ play it safe all of the time,” Steve mutters to himself.

He throws himself to sit up, holding a pillow close to his stomach as he tucks his chin on top it. He abandons the bouncy ball, letting it fall to the floor.

_‘Oh, look at poor little Stevey! All he wants is to settle down with the guy he loves—‘_

“What the hell was he even talking about?” Steve says aloud.

_‘But guess what? Bucky’s too busy fighting off some past trauma, and thoughtful old Steve doesn’t want to cause any trouble! So sad.’_

“That’s not the only reason,” He grumbles. “He—He didn’t need another distraction. He has friends, a family, a million dollar company to take over one day. Why would I get in the way of that?”

_‘Bucky’s in love with you, asshole. He’s been in love with you since we were seventeen. You’re too fucking naive—to oblivious to see it, Rogers, and that’s the problem. You’re too fucking dense to see that you have your perfect guy right in front of you. Too fucking stupid—too noble for your own good.’_

Steve knows it’s silly, of course, to talk to himself with no one else in the room. He does it anyways.

“Too naive,” he thinks aloud, unbelieving. “Too oblivious?! I am _not oblivious_. I’ve given him so many hints in the past few months, hints that I’m interested, but he hasn’t shown any interest, and I’m not going to pressure him into something he doesn’t want. I am _not_ oblivious. I’m not—ugh—I’m not dense, or stupid either.”

He pauses, thinking. “Yeah, no. I’m not stupid.”

_‘Keep telling yourself that, Stevie_,’ Bucky’s voice says, and finally, Steve gives into his conscience. Because he loves—no, he’s in love with Bucky, and he needs to make it heard.

He leaves his room in a confused, needy desperation, knowing damn well what he needs to do.

—

What Nat had said began eating away at Bucky as soon as he was alone again.

Her words hurt. They hurt like hell, slicing into his heart like a knife through butter. Like an infestation that won’t get out of his head, they bounce around his skull, giving him the same feeling of dread every time he remembers what she said.

_‘Bucky, during that trial, you said you’d move on. And you did. I’m so, so proud of you, but you need to stop being an immature dick and get over yourself. You’re not scared of commitment. You’re scared of being rejected.’_

Is he really an immature dick?

_‘You’re not scared of commitment. You’re scared of being rejected.’_

Okay, fine. Fair enough.

Maybe he _is_ scared of rejection. Maybe, he wonders, the only reason he hooks up with people and doesn’t care for anything long term is because he’s afraid they’ll end up not loving what he’s like on the inside.

_‘You’re not scared of commitment. You’re scared of being rejected.’_

Maybe, if they hadn’t found out already, they’d would find out about his past. About the trial, about his arm, about the bridge—What if, after Bucky gets too attached, they think, ‘_this guy has way too many issues for me to deal with’?_

There’s nothing wrong with being scared of rejection, though, he thinks. It’s not like there’s anyone out there who’d accept him for all his flaws no matter what.

Then, he thinks of what Bruce said.

_‘You may think that, but you don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re not looking. He talks to me about you all the time. He says it takes all his self control to not run his hands through your hair constantly. And he says that you have the prettiest eyes he’s ever seen. And that—and that your laugh makes him happier than anything. That’s what he says.’_

“Oh,” he says quietly. “_Steve_ would.”

Realization hits him like a truck. That phone call, on the plane—

_Hey, Buck?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Have you...” a pause, “You’ve seriously never thought of settling down? Monogamy, dates, moving in together, all that stuff?”_

“Oh my god,” Bucky gasps.

This morning, when Steve bandaged his arm. Last week, when he told Bucky that he was ‘waiting for the right person to dance with’ after being asked why he was still single. The moment Stephen and Tony handed out their wedding invitations, when Steve asked Bucky if they could, wink, share a room at the hotel they’d be staying at.

All the nights that Steve had comforted him after nightmares. The times they would hold each other and—

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.”

It’s been going on, Bucky realizes. It’s been going on for months, if not years, the mutual pining. The flirting. The goddamn flirting.

He was being such an asshole. Steve just wanted to help his mother on his own. He didn’t want Bucky to help, not because he was trying to prove a point and call Bucky spoiled, but because he feels like it’s his own responsibility—and he told Bucky that before. He told Bucky that he felt that he had to do it on his own, but Bucky thought he was just being stubborn. Steve doesn’t like handouts. It makes him feel helpless. That’s just who he is, and Bucky had no right to be so pissed off about it.

Bucky jumps to his feet. He scrambles to shove his shoes on, he grabs his hotel key, and he runs to the door, panic overtaking him. He needs to talk to Steve—he needs to make things right. He just needs to see him—

“Oof!”

Except, when he opens the door, he almost runs head first into Steve’s chest.

“Bucky,” Steve grunts, and the shorter man shakes off his surprise. His heart hammers in his chest, and he breathes a deep sigh as he takes the sight in. Steve looks flushed. His eyes are wide, pupils dark, as if he suddenly had the same realization that the other man did just mere seconds ago.

“S-Steve,” he says, chest heaving.

Then, as Bucky opens his mouth to explain himself, the taller man leans forward.

His lips land on Bucky’s.

He’s taken by surprise for a moment, eyes wide as they make mouth to mouth contact, until Bucky melts into it after a few seconds of bliss. It feels like coming home after years of being away.

“I love you. I love you.”

Then they kiss deeper; wrapping their arms around each other, searching each other’s bodies for warmth, hands on each other’s necks as they push themselves closer.

“I’m sorry.”

They stumble into Bucky’s room, locking the door behind them.

—

Natasha’s outfit for the wedding is a beautiful red fitted dress, knee length, made of satin, and split down the side to expose her slender leg. It’s complete with an eight karat diamond necklace and a pair of silver, six inch heels.

Bucky stares look at his best friend in awe as she stands before him. “Damn shawty, you fine as hell.”

“I haven’t even done my makeup or hair yet, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Are you gonna curl it?”

Natasha shrugs, inspecting her silhouette in the mirror, running her hands over her satin-concealed stomach. “Don’t know yet. Was thinking of having Hela do an updo for me. She’s good with hair.”

“What’s Wanda doing?”

“Going to a salon. This weird waterfall twist thing in the back. Like, uh, half up, half down. It’s pretty.” She looks over to Bucky, who’s still fumbling with his tie, huffing as she leans down to help him. “What are you doing with your hair?”

“Oh. I don’t know. I was just gonna gel it. I’m kinda happy that it got cut, y’know. It’s way less work to take care of.”

“You liked your long hair,” Natasha points out.

“Look, as happy as I am that the asshole is gone, he was damn good with a pair of scissors and a clipper. I looked fresh as hell afterwards. Even if I was hysterical and mentally scarred for the remainder of my life.”

“We made a deal,” she warns. “No joking about that day.”

“We threw out that rule years ago when Clint and I started making fun of my scar from the rib surgery.”

“It’s distasteful,” she grimaces.

“It’s okay. Look, Nat, I know it sucked—okay, that’s an understatement. It was horrible. It was horrible for all of us, me especially, but as much as I want to forget about it? I can’t. He’s still in the back of my head, like he’s waiting for the right moment to lock me in that basement again. I want to, at least, like, normalize it if I can’t forget it.”

“I can’t normalize it,” she says, “because it was anything but normal.”

“Okay. Okay, fine,” Bucky says, putting his hands up in defeat. “You’re right.”

“No, James, I mean I can’t normalize it. What he did to you was horrible, and I’ll never be able to look back on him without being fucking angry. That’s just me. Steve, too.”

“My therapist says that it’s unhealthy for me to use humor to cope with past trauma.”

“Then why do you do it?”

“Because it’s fuckin’ hilarious, that’s why.”

Her face twists up. “If you think so. Oh, and speaking of Steve—“

“Don’t say anything,” Bucky pleads.

“Say anything about what? Did you make up?”

He pauses, not meeting Natasha’s gaze. “Something like that.”

She raises her eyebrow, definitely not dumb enough to take that answer seriously.

—

It took lots of willpower and plenty of concealer, but after a good twenty minutes, Wanda is able to cover up all of the hickeys and bruises from Steve’s neck and collarbones. He sits on her bed, shirtless and his face dusted in a blush as she uses some weird makeup sponge applicator to blend his neck.

“There,” she says, standing back to admire her work. “You can barely see it anymore.”

“Thank you, Wanda,” he says sheepishly, inspecting himself in the mirror. Sure enough each purple-red mark is almost completely invisible, leaving his chest and neck barren. That’s a relief. “Looks good.”

The girl grins. “No problem. May I ask?”

“Ask what?”

“Who it was, of course. Someone I know?”

Steve gives her an unimpressed look. She smirks, knowingly.

“Yeah. You know him.”

“Well,” Wanda says, sorting through her makeup bag and fishing out a tube of matte lipstick, “I think you two look lovely together.”

“Thank you. I’m just hoping I’ll be able to live up to it all.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, like, this whole thing has technically been on-and-off for a long, long time now. What if I don’t live up to any expectations that he has? Maybe I won’t be... I don’t know. Enough.”

Wanda tosses Steve’s dress shirt into his lap, plopping down next to him onto the bed. She brushes her hair away from her face as she speaks softly, expression tender. “Hey.”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

“Listen to me, Rogers. It has shocked me to my core, but I like you. I really like you.”

His heart beginning to drop, Steve scoots away quickly. “Uh... look, Wanda, as beautiful as you look in that dress, you’re a taken woman, and I’m a taken man, and I—“

“I’m a lesbian,” she assures, putting a hand up in defense. He shuts his mouth instantly. “And no, that’s not what I was trying to insinuate. I mean to say that I like you a lot, as a friend, and that you can trust me to be absolutely honest with you. Do you honestly doubt that you’re good enough?”

“Yes,” he sighs, more from relief than anything. “I just love him so much. I’ve loved him for so long that I forgot that I ever loved him in the first place.”

“For what it’s worth, Steve, I think he feels even stronger about you.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, really,” Wanda grins, hands on his shoulder. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re wonderful. Strong, brave, charismatic, determined. If I were Bucky then I’d definitely think highly of you.”

“That’s funny considering that last night he... I’ll stop.”

“Oh? Please tell.”

“It wouldn’t be gentlemanly of me to say that to you.”

She winks. “Barnes never really was gentle in bed, was he?”

“Not at all,” he laughs.

—

Stephen stares at himself in the mirror as a hair stylist prods at his brunette locks, an intern does his tie in a perfect Windsor knot, and one of Tony’s assistants hold out his blazer for him to slip his arms through.

Yes, he can admit that he... doesn’t despise being treated so highly around here, anyone would enjoy it. Being respected is something that everyone likes. It’s just that whenever some shy workers approach him to ask him a simple question, they do with such wariness that he can’t help but feel bad. Yesterday, some girl approached Stephen to ask about bouquets—she looked terrified as she peered up at him. “M-Mr. Strange?” she had whimpered, and he had worryingly insisted that she call him Stephen.

He’s pretty sure that all of them were strictly advised to address Tony and him formally and to prioritize their voices more than anyone’s... and, well, that seems pretty harsh to ask of a bunch of lower-level Stark Industries employees. Most of them are teenagers for fuck’s sake, probably threatened to be fired or worse.

As he stares at the mirror, observing the ridiculously good fitting suit and the crispness in the light, his phone begins to vibrate from its spot across the room on a table.

“Mr. Strange, I believe your phone is ringing.”

“Stephen,” he corrects instantly. “And thank you. Would you grab that for me?”

“Certainly.”

“Mr. Strange, would you like this piece of hair to be slicked back, or would you like to leave it?”

“You can leave it,” he says. There go the formalities again. “Please, call me Stephen. I’ve said it already.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Stephen.”

“Okay, fine. Improvement.”

One of the assistants hands him his phone, and he takes it to his ear without thinking about it. Answering phone calls (press interview offers, business queries, congratulations on the wedding, etc) has become so common in the past few days that he doesn’t even think about it.

“Hello?”

A sigh. “Hey, babe.”

“Oh. Oh, hey, Tones,” he says, bringing the phone closer to his ear. He wasn’t expecting to hear anything from his soon-to-be husband at all today, not until they’d both be at the altar. “What’s up? Do you need anything? Are you all dressed and everything—“

Tony sniffs.

“Hey,” Stephen says softly. “What’s... do you...?”

“You know that tradition where the people getting married shouldn’t see each other the morning of?”

“...Yeah?”

“Fuck that rule. I need to see you.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

-

When Stephen finds his fiancé, the man is sitting on the edge of the king sized bed in their shared couple’s suite, his head hung in his hands.

“Honey,” Stephen says softly, sitting next to Tony and pulling his head close to his own chest. The billionaire’s son sighs, shoving himself farther into his lover’s arms as he huffs and huffs. “What’s wrong?”

He asks it out of chivalry, if he’s being honest, because he knows what’s wrong already. Last night was horrible, there’s no doubt about it—Tony snapped on Bucky and Steve, and even though he came from a place of empathy for his friend, Tony still went out of line on the both of them. Maybe it was stress, maybe it was the pressure of it all crashing down. Maybe Tony really was just so tired of their pining that he let them have it once and for all.

And, yes, of course he feels bad about it. But Stephen had called Steve and Bucky separately this morning to express him and Tony’s sympathies, and both of them assured that the spat had helped them out more than anything. So, uh, he assumes that they took Tony’s advice to heart.

“Did Howard call?” Stephen asks, just in case.

Tony shrugs, feigning disinterest—Stephen knows better about his fiancé to take it seriously. “He’s not coming today. Him or my mom.”

“Where did they say that?”

“This morning my dad a-announced on fucking Twitter that he had ‘business matters’ and to not expect pictures of him and Maria attending the wedding.”

Guilt stabs into Stephen’s heart.

“Honey,” he says, lifting up Tony’s face to look up at him. “Please. Look at me.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony croaks. Wiping his eyes with his hand, he peers up at Stephen, nose and under eyes red from crying. He’s pale, unnaturally so, and his usually olive skin is nowhere to be seen. Despite it all, he’s still the most gorgeous thing that Stephen’s ever seen. “I’m sorry I’m such a pain. I’m sorry I’m just like him. That when things don’t go my way I get so fucking—fucking mad. I’m so scared that I won’t... I won’t be enough. I was never enough for Howard.”

“You know what?” Stephen takes the shorter man’s shaking hands in his, pressing their foreheads together. “Fuck Howard. Fuck him for treating you like anything less than what you are. Tony, I love you, and it’s because you’re you. You’re perfect. You’re not like him, you’re not like anyone, and no matter what? You’re ten times the man he ever was. If I thought that you weren’t enough, I wouldn’t have proposed to you in the first place, trust me. You’re strong, and bold, and fucking wonderful. I’m so excited to spend my life with you.”

Tony doesn’t say anything. Okay. Time for a different approach.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen says, voice wavering. It’s a confession long overdue. “I can’t help but... feel like all of this is my fault. Maybe in a perfect world, you’d be married to Pepper Potts, a perfect woman that Howard and Maria approve of, and maybe you’d be taking over the company by now. If it weren’t for me—“

“Stephen,” Tony guffaws. “No.”

“I’m not going to sit here and argue that I’m not good enough,” says Stephen. “Because you’ve taught me enough about myself to know that I am. But I’m also not going to sit here and pretend that I’m not making things harder on you.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tony says.

He does.

“Look, I...” he says, running a hand over his face, then resting it on his forehead. “I can’t tell you how much—how important you are to me, how lost I would be without you. Don’t you dare try to say that I’d be better off without you, Stephen. I’m marrying the shit out of you, whether you like it or not. You’re the love of my life, okay? Fuck everyone else. Fuck Howard. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Stephen cries, and then they’re embracing each other, warm and sad but much needed.

“We can do this.”

“Yeah. We’re gonna make this work.”

“Of course we are. I’m Tony fucking Stark.”

—

During the rest of their remaining few hours before the wedding, all of the young adults practically tear their hotel rooms apart while getting ready. The girls run back and forth the hallway, getting makeup, curling irons, and anything else they manage to borrow from each other. Peter had to duck for cover as Hela threw a searing hair straightener down the hall towards Carol.

Other residents from the hotel scowl as they see all of them wrecking havoc, and Bucky’s pretty sure one of them complained to the manager, but all it took was for Pepper to mention that they were all groomsmen and bridesmaids for Tony Stark and Stephen Strange’s wedding and they were all let off the hook.

“Loki!” Valkyrie screams, leaning out of Thor and Bruce’s hotel room door. Her hair is done to the nines (braids with weave), and she’s wearing a gorgeous yellow jumpsuit with silver hoop earrings—she, however, shouts with the rage of a damn grizzly bear. “Where the FUCK is my eyeshadow palette?!”

“WHICH ONE?” Loki screeches from god-knows-where. Bucky winces; Loki’s voice must hurt after shouting so loud.

“MY COLOURPOP HONEY ONE!! WITH THE YELLOWS!!”

“I GAVE IT TO SHURI!”

Shuri starts screaming next. “I LEFT IT ON THOR’S BED!

“IT’S RIGHT HERE!” Thor booms.

“FUCKING GIVE IT TO ME, THEN! I NEED TO DO MY CUT CREASE!!”

“WHAT THE FUCK IS A CUT CREASE?!” Pietro yells next, no other reason than to join in on the fun and be a little shit.

“WAIT, WHAT?! WHO’S BEING CUT?!?!”

“NO ONE IS BEING CUT STEVE!! THOR, WHERE THE FUCK IS MY PALETTE?!” Val shrieks, louder, and Bucky slams his head into the wall.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, knocking on the doorframe. “Oh, shit! My homie looks fine as hell!“

“Shut up, Wilson,” Bucky laughs.

“Look at him, killin’ all the ladies! All the guys! My dawg, oh, look at those eyes! That crisp ass suit!”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend to be complimenting?”

“Those eyes,” Sam continues regardless, “let you know where home is. Steve sure is a lucky guy.”

Raising a finger to his mouth, Bucky signals for his friend to lower his tone. Steve and him made an unspoken rule to not tell anyone yet; they were sure everyone would figure it out anyways. “He told you?”

“He didn’t have to tell me. I saw him stumbling out of your room this morning, he was looking smitten as fuck.”

“No he wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Yes he was!” Sam says. “I mentioned you earlier and I swear, he turned into a damn fire hydrant. So you did it?”

“Did what?”

“You got your shit together and fucked, obviously.”

“I guess so,” Bucky shrugs, blushing. “Where is he?”

“With Peter and Wade. Was it good, at least?”

“You are on a need to know basis.”

“I’m just happy for you two, whatever! Are you ready to go to the venue?”

“Eh. I was gonna drive with Steve.”

“He’s coming with. Its me, Clint, Steve, Wade, and Peter. Everyone else is coming when they’re done getting ready.”

“Okay.”

“These poor girls. They have to worry about hair and makeup.”

“I’m so glad I’m not a girl,” Bucky sighs, watching the door as Peggy sprints down the hallway while holding a mirror in front of her face, pinching something onto her eyes that Bucky can’t see. She screams for Pepper to help her with her ‘falsies,’ whatever the hell that means. “It’s so high maintenance.”

“THOR!!” Val hollers, sounding like a cat being run over on the freeway, “WHERE THE FUCK IS MY EYESHADOW?!?!”

—

Eventually, everyone shows up to the venue dressed to the nines, surrounded by Stephen’s family and Tony’s father’s coworkers, and for the most part the couple kept the attendance very small and private. As expected, they were tailed by paparazzi as they drove in, and Bucky even found an article about him written on Buzzfeed a few hours later; they mentioned him being the son of famous fashion designer Rebecca Barnes and millionaire entrepreneur George Barnes, much to his dismay. Now everyone in the damn world is gonna know he’s friends with Tony Stark.

Whatever. More Instagram followers.

Steve notices quickly that Howard and Maria Stark aren’t present, and Rhodey only scoffs and dials a number on his phone when he’s made aware—Bucky assumes that Tony and Stephen already know. They’re probably relieved, for fuck’s sake.

The color scheme of the venue—as previously mentioned—is gold and red, but it’s done classily and perfectly calculated so that the contrast doesn’t clash with the rustic building at all.

The ceremony is set up outdoors, chairs and an aisle set up in front of two large oak trees, woven in together at the branches, almost forming a sort of archway over the altar. The trees are wrapped with golden and maroon ribbons, flowing in the breeze, and Pepper stands before everyone; she had become an ordained minister just for the event.

Sam, Clint, Bucky, Bruce, Thor, and Steve, however, all matching in their black suits with deep red ties and gold yellow boutonnières, wait around the corner for their cue. Did Bucky mention they’re all groomsmen? Honestly, he kind of forgot. He only realized it once the wedding planner named Jennifer told them ‘okay, you guys ready?’ and they were lining up to make their entrance.

A live singer is there and on a platform stage, off to the side, her melodic voice singing ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You’ by Elvis. Bucky recognizes her, but he can’t put his finger on it. He thinks she’s a celebrity.

“_Wise men say, only fools rush in...”_

For some reason, no one sees Tony or Stephen yet, but Sam whispers to Bucky, “I’m pretty sure they’re gonna make a dramatic ass entrance or something. Don’t worry.”

The six men walk down the aisle and to the altar. Bruce, Thor, and Clint on the right side, Bucky, Sam, and Steve on the left.

“_But I can’t help, falling in love with you.”_

Natasha, Wanda, and Shuri follow suit, their outfits absolutely breathtaking. The wedding guests look awed—Bucky sees all of their friends sitting in the back, looking absolutely glee and grinning. He winks back, and Loki mockingly pretends to faint. He holds in a chuckle.

The music from the side of the ceremony pauses. The once unlit candles all lined up on the sides of the aisle each light up one by one. Everyone gasps. Smiling, Bucky looks over at Steve, who he notices has tears in his eyes with a dopey grin. What the fuck. The ceremony barely even started. What a dork.

Then, Tony and Stephen are hand in hand, at the end of the aisle. It’s almost in slow motion, and they look absolutely fucking beautiful.

“_So take my hand_,” the music continues, giving Bucky chills at the elaborateness of it all.

Stephen looks happy—no, scratch that, he’s practically beaming, with a dark gray suit  
that fits him perfectly, adorned with a simple black tie, but what really stands out is the green and gold boutonnière he wears that looks like it’s glowing. The only pop of color in the entire room. He looks over at Tony with pure love in his eyes.

Tony. God, where does Bucky even begin to describe Tony?

Tony looks content. He looks happy, blissed, and completely ahold of everything in front of him—for the first time in his life, probably. He’s practically dripping with anticipation.

His suit is a dark maroon, and, in theme with Stephen, the flower he wears is a baby blue.

They look complete. They look good together.

“I love you, Steve,” Bucky whispers, barely audible to even himself. He just feels the need to say it.

Steve is quiet for a moment.

“I love you, too, Bucky.”

Tony and Stephen take their places on the altar. Some wedding photographers rush in to take a few pictures, the music stops, and Pepper starts speaking.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she starts, clearing her throat. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of these two men in marriage. In the years they have been together, their love and understanding of each other has grown and matured, and now they have decided to live their lives together as husbands. They met each other, fell in love and are finalizing it with their wedding today. This is also a celebration for the rest of us, for it is a pleasure for us to see love in bloom, and to participate in the union of two people so delightfully suited to one another. And we can have a couple of cocktails in the process, thank god.”

Everyone laughs.

“Alright. On with the vows!”

Tony goes first. He clears his throat with a fake sort of bravado, earning a few laughs.

“Stephen Strange—no, I still haven’t gotten over how peculiar your name is—I swear to god, ever since you became my lab partner back in high school, i knew that one day I’d be marrying you. No matter how hard I pestered you about it, you always went around telling people how I tried to trick you into marrying me. After all these years, I can’t believe it actually worked.”

It’s like a damn comedy club. Everyone practically rolls on the floor with laughter.

“I know,” Tony says, “That I don’t have much to offer. Other than the money, of course, but I know you’re not shallow enough to take that seriously. And my pretty face, that’s practically irresistible. But I know I’m impulsive, and a straight up asshole sometimes... oh, pardon my french. I also know that you’re the man of my dreams, and I’ll do anything for you—for us.” He pauses. “When I was younger, my father didn’t love my mother. I made a vow to myself to never have a relationship like my parents did.”

Steve and Bucky look to each other quizzically. Surely, Tony isn’t going to drag his father in front of so many people, it’s surely going to get out—there’s so many Stark Industry executives here, for fuck’s sake! What the hell is he thinking?

But then, Bucky realizes, as Tony tears up, that this is him breaking away from his father.

This wedding is about Tony finding love for himself. It’s about him becoming his own man, regardless of if his parents showed up to the ceremony or not. It’s about his love for Stephen, the man who Howard barely even approves of. He’s saying ‘fuck you’ to Howard and doing this all on his own.

And, all at once, everyone realizes that Tony Stark just made the most big-dick-energy move of the century.

The media is going to fucking break, Bucky thinks as Tony continues.

“Howard would make me drink scotch when I was six years old. Told me it would make a man out of me, punched me and told me I was his most useless creation. When he found out I liked men, I was thirteen years old. He didn’t hit me, surprisingly, and we made a deal—I do what he says, for the rest of my life,” Tony says bitterly, “And I’m free to date and love whoever I want. Today, I realized that... I realized that Howard was unsuccessful. I’m in love with you, Stephen, and I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. It scares me, how much I love you, and I did it all on my own. Without Howard over my shoulder. You’re the one thing I decided to do for myself.”

“Tony...” Stephen whispers.

“It’s okay, honeybuns,” Tony says. “And so, I promise to take care of you for as long as we both shall live. I will never, ever, ever make you regret a thing. I promise to love you, to cherish you, through the good, the bad, and the ugly. Even if we grow old and raisiny, I’ll always be there for you.”

Sam hands him the ring, and Tony slips it onto Stephen’s ring finger.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Tony says to his soon-to-be husband. “Did I screw that up?”

“No, you didn’t. You were perfect.”

The taller man goes next; he holds Tony’s hands in his, and they look each other in the eyes.

“Tony,” he says with a sloppy grin. “Anthony Edward Stark, you human train wreck. I remember the exact moment when I fell in love with you. It was in our senior year of high school. You were being chased down in the courtyard by the student council vice president after you and Bruce burned the science lab down.”

The young adults all whoop, laughing and pointing to Peggy and Bruce, who cover their faces in mock embarrassment.

“It was at that moment,” Stephen continues, “That Peggy pinned you down onto the ground and shoved your face in a pile of dirt. If I were to go back in time and tell my eighteen year old self that you would be my husband one day, I would have punched myself in the face. There was something about your eyes, I think, and your charisma—something about you made my heart skip a beat, though. At first, I thought, ‘Why the hell do I feel this way about the same guy who rolled down the hallway in a car tire?’”

Tony scoffs.

“Anyways, fast forward a month or two. It was chilly out, and we were at a party. It was Peter Quill and his girlfriend’s party, remember? At Mr. Thanos’ house? God everyone hated that guy.”

“I wonder where he is now,” Tony sighs dreamily.

“Well, you and I were sitting on a balcony, watching all the chaos of the party below us.”

“Is this the party where Sam jumped onto a car from the roof?”

“Yeah, I think.”

Everyone starts whooping as Sam, from his place on the altar, raises his hand proudly.

“Yeah, and, well... that was the night where you drunkenly kissed me for the first time. Everything kind of spiraled from there,” Stephen says. “And so, over four years later, I promise to you, the love of my life, that I take you to be my lawfully wedded husband. I vow to love you and take care of you for as long as we live. I take you with all of your faults—“

“And there’s a lot of them,” Tony interrupts.

“Shut up, you’re perfect. All of your faults, and all of your strengths. I give you all of me, with all of my faults and strengths, as well. I choose to spend the rest of my life with you.”

For a moment, all is silent. The couple stares into each other’s eyes, crying.

“The ring,” Pepper says.

Stephen turns to Thor, who’s already holding the ring out to him. “Thanks, man.”

As Tony holds out his hand for Stephen, Bucky notices that he’s visibly shaking, and his heart melts for the two. Stephen takes his husband’s hands in his, gently, and they whisper something inaudible to each other. He slides the wedding band onto Tony’s ring finger, meeting his engagement ring.

“Do you both promise to love and cherish each other, for as long as you both live?”

“I do,” they say simultaneously.

Pepper grins. “I now pronounce you married.”

Stephen dips Tony into a kiss, and everyone loses their shit; cheering and crying as the husbands embrace each other, tears soaking into each other’s suits.

—

“You know, I was surprised to find out that it was Stephen who proposed first,” Wade grins, balancing a champagne glass in one hand and a microphone in the other, “Given the amount of times I’ve caught Tony on his knees for him.”

Steve lights up. “Oh, Jesus, thank god I’m not the only one.”

“Wade, my mom’s here!” Stephen groans.

“I don’t mind!” yells Stephen’s mother, to which she gets a high five from Shuri.

“I can’t even count the number of times Tony would call me in the middle of the night back in high school, ranting about his crush on Stephen Strange,” says Rhodey. “I would always tell him the same thing; ‘please shut the fuck up and go to sleep. You make me want to pour acid into my eyes, so just ask him out.’ And then he did. So technically, if it weren’t for my helpful direction, we all wouldn’t be here today.”

Eventually, almost everyone takes turns telling their own stories, sharing their own jokes and anecdotes from over the years.

Peter goes last, everyone already busy shitting themselves with laughter at Loki’s speech before. “All of you who know Stephen well enough will know that he is a wonderful and caring person. He deserves a distinguished, functional, and responsible husband. Thank God Tony married him before he found one.”

Tony chokes on his water.

—

Bucky was right. Howard loses his shit.

He starts by publicly cutting off Tony, who doesn’t really give a shit, anyways. He’s already rich on his own from saving up over the years and taking business commissions from tech companies all around. He went to college on scholarship, so he doesn’t have to worry about loans, but he has enough to live a life in lavish regardless, his husband along for the ride.

When Tony builds his own lab, no one really sees him for days at a time. Stephen doesn’t, either. After a long talk about his mental health, he finally caves and agrees to spend more time out of the workshop and with friends.

When Tony designs a new prototype for nano-technological machinery, Howard attempts to get his son to work for the business again, only to receive a flippant ‘lmao no.’

—

One year later, Steve proposes to Bucky a few hours after their graduation, both of them still standing in their caps and gowns with their degrees in hand.

He says yes, fucking obviously.

—

Their wedding is a small event; they hold it at the Barnes’ family mansion, only inviting family and friends.

Bucky’s mom pays over three thousand dollars on catering. Sam and Clint get so drunk that they forget who’s wedding it is, but that’s to be expected.

It’s the best day of both of their lives.

—

When his father and mother die in a car accident, Tony Stark is left with the company. He works his ass off for a good few years, and eventually he becomes twice as rich as his dad ever was.

He makes Pepper the CEO. Extravagant dinner parties and such become commonplace.

—

They rent a shitty two bedroom apartment on the other side of town, close to Bucky’s job as a paid intern at the police station and Steve’s job as an art teacher at Marvel High School. Nick Fury is absolutely thrilled to have Steve work at the school that he once was a student in, not that he’d show it. Eventually, Steve saves up enough to pay off all of his mother’s bills.

It’s kind of easy sailing after that.

The days are long, and Bucky’s work hours are inconsistent and annoyingly sporadic, but it’s all worth it at the end when friends come over and they all share beers while watching Mean Girls.

Sam and Clint still stay together after college. Valkyrie and Carol break up but remain on good terms. Tony and Stephen make their marriage work as Tony turns Stark Industries into a technological corporation (instead of the weapons manufacturer that his father created) and Stephen becomes a neurosurgeon. Loki and Hela buy more pet snakes and leave them in Bruce and Thor’s cupboard. Wade and Peter don’t even discuss marriage for another six years, but they scrape their way by. Wanda and Natasha move into their own house, hustling as much as they possibly can, eventually opening their own business downtown. T’Challa and Shuri spend most of their time ruling Wakanda, being diplomats and signing peace treaties. Everyone watches T’Challa on the news as he, well, does everything a king should do. The siblings visit home occasionally.

Steve and Bucky collapse into their shared bed, exhausted after a long day of work, Muffin the cat walking on top of Steve’s chest.

“What about kids?” Steve asks, looking like a child asking for a lollipop, hope shining in his eyes.

Bucky grins.

—

Natasha immediately volunteers to be their surrogate.

—

The baby is born a week prematurely at 3 in the morning, Wanda, Steve, and Bucky by Natasha’s side the entire time during the few hours of screaming and labor.

They name the baby girl Sarah, after Steve’s mom.

—

Sarah’s a little doll, with the cutest button nose and the most piercing blue eyes that Bucky’s ever seen.

The couple, ragged and tired, baby vomit stains all over their shirts, stare down in wonder as their daughter sleeps soundly in her crib.

“She’s finally asleep,” Steve sighs happily, slouching over as he strokes his fingers through her dark brown curls.

“Quick, let’s sleep as much as we can before she—“

She starts screaming, and Steve almost starts crying real tears. “Why can’t God just strike me dead?”

“Babe—“ Bucky says.

“It’s okay, Buck,” he sighs, picking her up and bouncing her on his shoulder. “Look, I know you’re exhausted, we both are, but you have work in the morning and—“

“Steve, I can just call and ask to take the day off.”

“You’ve taken a lot of days off already, I don’t want your boss to get annoyed. Go sleep, I’ll take care of her.”

Bucky’s shoulders slump, pouting as the baby screams and cries on Steve’s shoulder. He feels bad about leaving all of it to Steve, even if only for a few hours. And, well, as much as he’d love to sleep for the first time in two days, Steve has work too. “What about...”

“Coulson is lenient, he’ll be able to handle it if I don’t show up for a little bit.”

“The lack of paternity leave in the United States is a joke.”

“I can ask for a leave.”

“But you love teaching,” he frowns.

“I love you and Sarah too. We’ve already established that we’re not ready for a babysitter yet, she’s too young, and—“

“We could pay Peter and Wade to babysit her. They need the money and I trust them more than a complete stranger.”

Steve nods. “Yeah. we could do that, but trust me. This won’t last forever. I can stop working for a month or two until she’s old enough to be at least a little self sufficient.”

“If you want.”

“I do want,” he says, kissing Bucky on the cheek.

Then, Sarah vomits on Steve’s shoulder.

—

“You know, I’m jealous that I didn’t think of having a kid before you two did,” Tony says, Sarah’s fists around his pointer fingers as she sits on his lap, spitting bubbles from her mouth as he bounces his leg. “How’s fatherhood treating you?”

Bucky sighs, shoving his head into the couch cushions. “I can’t remember the last time Steve and I went on a date. We need one, we barely see each other, and when we do one of us are half asleep from exhaustion.”

“Where is he today?”

“Working. I told my boss about the baby, he pitied me and said that I could have two weeks away from work. I told Steve to get back to the school since he misses his class so much.”

“Stephen and I could—“

“No.”

“What? Why can’t we watch her?”

“Stephen’s not who I’m concerned about. You’d, on the other hand, let her play with power tools.”

“When I was a baby, my dad let me play with power tools as long as I would be occupied.”

“Your father is infamous for being one of the worst dads to ever live.”

“Fucker’s dead now.”

“You say that so lightheartedly.”

Tony blinks. “Eh. I guess so. But you know that scene in Incredibles 2 where Bob Parr drops off JackJack at Edna Mode’s house?”

“That is so fucking random. I can’t with you.”

“Yeah, but, like, did you watch that movie?”

“Yes, duh. I’m not uncultured.”

“Well, that’s how it would be if you left Sarah with her uncle Tony. I would give her voice recognition access to my private lab. I would design her a baby-sized hand repulser.”

“I’m growing concerned about your computer tech.”

“So you’d let me take care of her?”

Bucky sighs, looking at his daughter, who’s hair is tied up into two cute little buns, eyes as big and blue as the sky. She really does seem infatuated with Tony—seems comfortable around him. Sarah absolutely despises Clint, on the other hand, swatting him away and chanting ‘no no no!’ whenever he tries to hold her.

Well, there is a comfortable atmosphere with Tony, he guesses.

“Yeah. Sure.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. Watch her whenever you want to.”

“Yessssss.”

“You’d make a good dad, Tony. You really should have kids.”

“Pshh,” Tony snorts, shaking his head. “I’d make a terrible father.”

“You just said you were jealous of me and Steve for having a kid before you and Stephen.”

“Yeah, because I love one-upping you. But trust me, I—I’d be a horrible parent. I wouldn’t give the poor kid enough attention.”

“I beg to differ.”

“I wouldn’t be loving enough.”

“You’re the clingiest person other than my husband that I’ve ever met.

“What if I turn out just like Howard?” he asks, malice dripping from his voice. “I mean, my uncle Obadiah, before he betrayed me and almost ran my company to the ground, he always said how nice my dad was back before I was born. He was kind. Noble.”

“You’re not your father.”

Even while looking down at Sarah, Tony seems uncertain. “I’m just afraid that I’ll repeat history. That’s it.”

“Okay,” Bucky says carefully, “But let’s just say you proved yourself and became the best father you could ever be. Would you get a surrogate like Kim Kardashian did?”

“...No. I’d adopt.”

“Why?”

Tony shrugs. “Lots of teenagers in foster care. Gifted ones. They just need an opportunity to do great things.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“Not really. I just think about you when we were teenagers.”

“What? Why me?”

“You were misguided. Lost. Trust me, Bucky, if you hadn’t met Natasha, Sam, and Clint when you did, you would’ve... you wouldn’t have ever been the same. If I didn’t have Rhodey and Pepper through high school, I would’ve killed myself eventually. If you hadn’t met Peter, he would’ve been miserable for the rest of his Junior and Senior year. There are kids out there who need those sorts of relationships, and I want to be that relationship.”

Bucky looks at his hands.

“You really do have a heart, Tony,” he says softly.

Tony scoffs, kissing Sarah on the head. “Yeah. Well, I may be an asshole sometimes, but I’m not a complete asshole.”

“Surprising.”

“Shut up.”

—

The first few months of fatherhood are a living hell. Their schedules make it almost impossible for them to juggle work and taking care of their three month old daughter, so Steve takes some time off his teaching job to be a stay at home dad for a while. After that they pay Peter and Wade to babysit, but everyone else offers to watch her as well when the two aren’t available.

Steve and Bucky still do their best to keep their romance alive though. Every first Sunday night of the month, they go out for slushees at 7-11 and stargaze at the quarry, just like they did in the old days, talking and reminiscing about the past and the future and everything in between.

“I’m worried,” Steve says frantically, turning to his husband. “What if Scott, like, accidentally throws her down the stairs?”

“Wanda and Loki are there, too. Sarah will be fine.”

“Wanda I’m confident in. It’s Loki that I’m worried about. He’ll probably feed her the entire tub of neapolitan ice cream in the freezer. He’s gonna let her play with his knives.”

“Wanda’s a good auntie. She wouldn’t let that happen.”

“Maybe we should call them.”

“You called Scott four minutes ago.”

“I get anxious.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Oh, I know.”

“Did you buy her formula at the store today?”

“...I thought you did?”

“Fuck. Now they probably don’t have much formula left, and if she gets cranky then all they can do is cover their ears and pray she’ll fall asleep.”

“We’ve been gone for twenty minutes.”

“Yeah?”

“She had a full bottle of breast milk when we left. She’s probably fine.”

Steve pauses, crinkling his nose. “Can we pick up some more formula on the way home? Just to be safe?”

“Yeah, babe,” Bucky says, kissing him on the cheek.

Smiling, Steve tucks his face into Bucky’s neck.

“It’s pretty lucky that I took that shift at Starbucks when I was 17, huh?”

“Yep. Very.”

—

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> remember when clint and bucky beat up a hotdog stand guy? so proud


End file.
